The Boy Who Trusted
by Rico Perrien
Summary: An abused young boy was brought to a secret location far away from home. What could possibly go wrong?
1. The Boy Who Trusted

**The Boy-Who-Trusted**

Synopsis: In his short life, Harry Potter had learned to trust adults. What no one had bothered to ask was what he trusted them to do.

Warning: AU Rating M Language and suggestion of adult situations and activities

September 5th, 1991

On his fourth day of classes at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, Harry Potter's growing discomfort with his situation reached the breaking point. In later years, he was still surprised it had taken that long, but he initially at the time had high hopes that life could have been better. However, it must be noted that he had not slept well the entire week, being woken up repeatedly by Ron Weasley's snoring, and the incessant whimpering of a couple of his homesick dorm-mates. At least at home in the closet under the stairs, there were walls and floor, a door and some distance between Harry and his uncle's nightly imitation of industrial equipment.

Of course, it was during his 'Double Potions' class with the Slytherin first year students when he snapped. As usual, Professor Snape had been disparaging the Gryffindor students while praising the slightest efforts by the Slytherins. Harry suspected that he gave points to those in his House for being able to figure out how to use an outdoor toilet, much less an indoor one.

After the umpteenth snide remark directed his way, Harry held up his hand.

Professor Snape looked at him and scowled. "What do you want, Potter? Twenty points from Gryffindor for disrupting my valuable class time!"

Harry stood, and asked "Professor, can you please answer a couple of questions for me?"

Snape scowled again, but nodded. Potter seemed to be sufficiently cowed and respectful. "Go ahead"

Harry said in a firm voice, "I can understand why you don't like most of the Gryffindors; most of them have more guts than brains as far as I can tell. But why do you hate me? As far as I know, you never saw me before this week, and yet it is obvious to the whole class that you loathe the ground I walk on."

Snape's face started turning bright red.

Hermione Granger turned to Harry, whom she was sharing a desk with, and started to say, "Harry, you shouldn't speak to a professor…" at which point Harry turned to her and said, "Hermione, for once in your life, can you please shut the fuck up?" For the rest of her life, Hermione would remember the look of total rage in Harry's green eyes.

He then turned back to Snape and asked, "My other question is why you pander to the Slytherins. Are they all spreading their legs for you or sucking you off, or do they have enough blackmail material on you to keep you in line and under their thumbs?"

Snape looked like he was about to explode, when Draco Malfoy's voice echoed through the room. "Ah, Potty's going to get a detention! Wait until my father hears about this!"

Harry turned, looked at the blonde princeling, and turned back to Snape. "Please excuse me professor, I have something to attend to." He walked over and stood beside Malfoy's desk.

Draco turned and sneered the sneer that he had practised daily, and which had stood his family at the top of the pureblood bigot tree for several generations. "What do you think you're doing , Scarhead?"

Harry quietly said, "Just this" and he grabbed the back of Draco's head and smashed his face into the top of the desk several times, until the entire class could hear Draco's nose, cheekbones and several teeth breaking. He then threw Draco headfirst into the classroom wall, and as the boy fell to the floor, followed up with a few well-placed kicks.

Vincent Crabbe stood as quickly as the rotund boy could. He had been told to act as Draco's bodyguard, and it looked like this was the time for it. "Potter you can't….urk!" The last sound was his response to Harry kicking him in the crotch hard enough to lift him six inches off the floor, after which he fell on top of Draco, and threw up all over his erstwhile friend. All future hope for him having offspring had become moot in that moment.

Snape bellowed "What do you think you're doing, Potter?"

Harry looked at the professor, and answered "Just what my uncle and cousin say you're supposed to do to people you despise!"

Behind him, Gregory Goyle rose to his feet. He was also supposed to look after Malfoy. His father had taken him along on muggle hunts, and told him that as a pureblood, it was his right and duty to supress the halfbloods and mudbloods.

Hearing the heavy boy getting to his feet, Harry spun and looked at him.

Goyle stopped in his tracks. Here was a half-blood who was not only not going to be easily intimidated, but looked not only capable but indeed prepared to kill him. He started backing away from the enraged Gryffindor. At this moment, an independent thought crossed his mind, that much of what he had been carefully told had been lies.

Snape pulled his wand, which Harry noticed out the corner of his eye. In a burst of accidental magic from the boy, Snape's wand evaporated in a puff of smoke.

As Harry headed for the door, Snape ran to his desk and pulled out a second wand. He gestured towards the heavy oaken doors of the classroom, which slammed shut. He screamed "Potter, you're not going anywhere!"

As Harry walked through the oak doors as if they were made of air, they heard him yell "Bullshit!"

Professor Snape ran to catch Harry, but found that, to him, the thousand-year-old oak doors remained quite solid, and he fell backwards onto the floor screaming in anger and pain, and mostly humiliation.

As Harry stormed out of the main entrance of Hogwarts, his beautiful white snowy owl flew down and landed on his shoulder. He looked at the bird, and yelled "Go away!"

Hedwig shook her head.

Harry told the owl "Go back to the school. I can't look after you."

The owl flew over to the field, and quickly caught and consumed a field mouse. She then flew back to Harry's shoulder looking very pleased with herself, nodding her head back and forth as if to say "I can look after myself. Thank you very much!""

For the first time that day, Harry smiled. He asked, "Don't you want to stay here with the other owls? You would have better company than I would be."

At this Hedwig shook her head, turned away from Harry and regurgitated an owl pellet consisting of the remains of her recent meal. She then turned to Harry, nodded her head, and as much as she could with a predator's beak, smiled at the boy.

Harry nodded to his familiar and said, "Yeah, I feel the same way about them. Okay girl, it's you and me together." The owl nodded vigourously.

As Harry approached the gates of the school grounds, Hagrid was standing there. "'Arry, you can't leave. This is your 'ome."

Harry shook his head. "No it isn't. At home, the people who hate me are at least honest about it. You picked me up at that island, took me away, showed me wonderful stuff, and then left me in front of the train station with no idea where to go. Then I come here, far away from anyone I know, am told there are wonderful things, but I'm not supposed to tell anybody what they do to us here. When I first got here, your bossman looked over the new students like a new crop of playthings. I've heard a lot about people like that kidnapping little kids and what they do to them. I'm not staying here. No damn way!"

At this point, Minerva McGonagall ran up. The elderly witch appeared quite annoyed and out of breath. "Mr. Potter, where do you think you are going? This is where you live now. We're your family. All your friends are here!"

Harry looked at her in astonishment. "Friends, you say. Hah!"

"I am rooming with a kid who can't stop snoring except when he eats more in one single meal than I have ever had in an entire week! I rode the train with this know-it-all brat of a girl who wouldn't shut up about the books she had read and she knew all about this place and she knew all about me. But what she and the rest of the people apparently knew about me was a total load of crap! Friends! Not bloody likely."

"And family? As I just told this big oaf, at least my family is honest about hating me. Here one quarter of the student body seems to think I am shit incarnate, and I had a professor who, for no reason I have been able to see, hates my guts!"

"And you. You are supposed to be the Head of my House and my advocate in all things if there is any trouble. You didn't smile at us when you took us in for sorting. You didn't smile at any of the new Gryffindors. You don't look like you have smiled in the last century and wouldn't know how if this big guy laid you on your back whipped off your knickers and did the 'lickety-split' thing my aunt seems to like so much."

"No damn way. I'm going."

McGonagall was shocked. "But how are you going to survive without our help!"

Harry smiled. "Shows how much the oh-so knowledgeable people here pay attention. It's harvest time and fall. All the bushes along the railroad track are covered with berries. I worked in the garden enough to know where to find food. And I have this."

He held up the key to his Gringott's vault. Hagrid started patting his pockets frantically as he was supposed to be the 'Keeper-of-the-Keys' for Hogwarts, and he had been carrying Harry's key.

Harry smiled at him. "Did you think that, the way I grew up, I couldn't pick a pocket or two? After all, you told me that this key was mine. Mine. Not yours, not the Headmasters. Mine!"

He turned and walked towards the gate. Professor McGonagall pulled out her wand and slammed the gates shut. Harry turned and smiled, and walked through the steel bars just as he had waked through the Potion Classroom's doors.

He headed down to the railroad track, with his owl on his shoulder, and turned south.

When Lord Voldemort returned, the wizarding world would be on its own.

**A/N: **Sorry about this one. It came to mind after hearing a new report of a teenage girl who was arrested for recruiting high-school students for prostitution. She preyed on the homeless and abused kids, who had been told by their abusers not to tell anyone what was happening to them. After that, thinking about how Harry was 'recruited' just got more and more creepy.


	2. Colours

**Colours**

**Rating: M for Language**

**September 7****th****, 1991**

The young boy sat beside the fire in a small clearing in the forest. He was eating the rabbit which he had just killed and roasted over the fire he had started with a wave of his hand. Watching him was a large white snowy owl, who glowed with the yellow of confidence and the orange of regret.

Harry knew that Hedwig was proud of her prowess as a hunter, but ashamed that she had not fully dispatched the rabbit herself with her talons, leaving it to Harry to end the beast's suffering with the rock him summoned into his hand. Mice and lemmings, she could kill with ease, but this large bunny was too large to dispatch so efficiently. Hence the regret.

As the greenish shade left the rabbit's body, Harry had thanked its spirit for its sacrifice.

Harry had long been fascinated by colours he saw around things. When he had been taken to Sunday school, while his aunt and uncle were hypocritically in church showing off their finery to their neighbours (who were about as devout as they were, and doing the same), the teacher had shown the children paintings of Jesus and the saints. Harry had been surprised to see the paintings showing the halos around the heads of the holy people, as this seemed to indicate that others saw them too. The teacher had dismissed his comments saying that this was just an indication that these were special people, and that nobody had really seen the halos.

Harry was not so convinced, but noticed that some painting showed a full halo while others showed just a faint ring, and he decided that must mean that some of the painters could see the full aura like he could, while others could only see a little bit. To him, this was kind of like how he had to wear glasses while others had good vision, or some people could hear quiet things while others had problems hearing people talking even when they were close together. Just individual variations between people.

Harry noticed that all the painting showed the halos being the same colours, and had seen a couple people with halos of the same gold colour. Once when he was at the hospital (Dudley had scratched his leg, so it apparently required immediate medical attention, unlike Harry's frequent and completely untreated injuries), he saw a young mother leaving the hospital with her newborn baby, being accompanied by her husband, and she had a similar colour halo around her. In his recurring nightmare of when his mother was murdered, as she tried to shield him, she also had a halo of the same shade.

Then he asked the teachers what it meant when his uncle had a halo of bright red with black fringes around his head. Questions were asked, and Harry was never taken to Sunday school again. And he was beaten.

Over time, Harry came to associate certain colours with different emotions or states of mind. There were slightly different shades of red for malice and hatred, and different shades of green for different living things.

His aunt usually had an aura of malice, while Uncle Vernon had the red of hatred, and the dark fringes that Harry came to understand were a desire to hurt others. Aunt Petunia didn't show the 'hurt' colour (Harry could never tell if it was actually black or just a deep violet, contrasting with the bright red). His cousin Dudley, on the other hand, constantly showed the blackish fringe, but without the malice or crimson of hatred – Harry figured that Dudley didn't really hate anyone, it was just that hurting people was what he did, having learned at his father's knee that this was how you treated other people. Vernon and Dudley did both have the 'royal' blue that Harry had also seen around Very(!) Important People, which he took to mean an understanding that they were somehow 'Inherently Better Than You'.

Harry had come to the conclusion that the mixture of malice and confidence were what other people called 'smug'.

Working in the garden, as he did, he found that different living things had different colours of green. Plants had a particular shade of green, and in the autumn, the green left the leaves of the shade trees and moved down towards the roots, while the fruit trees did the same but also had some of the green concentrate in their fruits. With flowers that bloomed for only a year, the green moved up into the seed pods as the plants' stems withered.

Living things that could move under their own power had a slightly different shade of green flowing around their bodies. Like the rabbit he had just eaten, the distinct green light left their bodies when they died.

People, although they were also animals that could move, had a different shade of green again. Animals that had some sentience, like Hedwig, and the dolphins Harry had seen on the school field trip to an aquarium, had a green aura somewhere between that of other animals and of people.

When Harry's teachers taught about the different colours of glowing gases in science class, he was fascinated, and started to associate the different colours he saw with the different kinds of light. No—one else he knew saw the light around people the way he did, but from the paintings, he knew that some people could. From reading stories of people in other countries, life the yogis in India, he found that some other people claimed to see these auras as well and could tell about the people's characters from the colours they saw.

As Harry got older, and met more people, he observed them closely. In part this was for self-preservation, as Dudley and his friends made life difficult. He learned about the orange of regret when he tried to make friends with Marjory Adams in first grade. After a couple days she told him she could not be his friend (orange) because Dudley and his friends had threatened to hurt her if she did (light blue of doubt and cyan of fear).

Dudley and his gang never showed the blue of doubt or the deeper blue of self-doubt. They were the top dogs, and they had no doubt about either that or their place in the world. And they always had the dark fringes of the intent to harm.

Some colours puzzled Harry. Was the gold halo around this Jesus guy and his friends an indication of holiness (whatever that was – Harry had never experienced anything like it in his upbringing) or of unconditional love? Perhaps he had not seen enough examples of either to distinguish between the two, or there was a third intermediate state, or the painters could only find paint of a limited range.

Harry reflected about the people he had just left at Hogwarts.

Headmaster Dumbledore had the yellow of self-confidence glowing brightly around him, with no sign of self-doubt. Professor Snape had displayed a bright crimson of hatred when he looked at Harry, which Harry could not understand as he had given the man no reason for this. However, as far as he knew, he had never given his Uncle Vernon reason to hate him, but it was there anyway.

Hermione Granger had displayed an unusual aura, of bright yellow of confidence and even brighter blue of self-doubt. Harry smiled at her attempts to tell everyone what she knew was to show she was confident in her book-learning, but she was very uncertain of this new world where she found herself. He understood well where she was coming from, but she was still annoying.

Ron Weasley had a strong aura of the yellow-green of envy, overwhelming almost any other colours.

Draco Malfoy was no mystery, because Harry had grown up with the malice, hatred, self-importance and the intent to harm, all his life. Crabbe and Goyle had both shown supreme confidence until Harry had demolished Draco in front of them, after which the light of self-doubt seemed to explode around them.

As he was mulling over his recent experiences, Hedwig gave a short bark of warning.

Harry summoned another rock into his hand, preparing for another attack, when an elderly woman started to come out of the darkness towards his fire. She held her right hand open in the air in front of her, while she glowed with a very bright orange and deep blue. In her left hand she held an old broom. She was dressed in black slacks and a black pullover sweater, and had her grey hair in a long plait.

The woman stopped her approach, and called out, "Harry Potter, it is Minerva McGonagall. I promise you I mean you no harm. May I approach?"

Harry looked at her. He could see no sign of malice, and no intent to harm, but he had learned over his short life that caution was its own reward. He had never seen such intense regret, so his caution was precariously balanced against his curiosity.

He called out, "Throw your wand into the light!", and her wand landed on the ground near his small fire. "Now put down your broom. Okay, come forward" after she had lain the broom on the ground.

The elder witch came into the firelight on the side away from Harry, holding her empty hands out to her sides. She was clearly trying to show that she was no threat.

He glared at her. "How did you find me? Did you track me with magic?"

She smiled and laughed quietly. "Mr. Potter, didn't you know that witches fly on brooms? Well, not all of us. At Hogwarts you would have learned a game called quidditch, where you fly on brooms. When I was at school myself, I played, and I still get out to ride once in a while. You were following the rail tracks and heading back towards London. I flew up and followed the track until I spotted your campfire. I used no other magic, I assure you."

He continued to glare, glancing at the rock in his hand. "How you I know you aren't going to call a rock to you or something, like I can?"

The elder witch nodded. He obviously did not trust her. She knew that trust had to be earned, and so far he had been shown no reason to do so.

"Mr. Potter, most children's magic is very uncontrolled, and we call it 'accidental' magic. Most of us cannot do magic without our wands, and we spend so much time practicing with them that most of us forget how to do magic without them. Once you get dependant on your wand, it is very difficult to learn to do wandless magic. The fact that you can summon that rock in your hand, and the way you walked through the doors and the gates, indicates that you have great power, or at least the potential for great power. This is part of the reason I came to see you. For your own safety and the safety of the magical world, you need to learn to use your magic properly."

His brow furrowed. "What do you mean, my safety and the magical world. Why should I give a rat's ass about the magical world?"

She sighed. "I think Hagrid and Mr. Ollivander mentioned to you that there was a dark wizard who did terrible things. He called himself Lord Voldemort. When you were a baby, he murdered your parents, and gave you that scar you wear on your forehead. What happened then, nobody knows, but you survived the curse that should have killed you, and it destroyed his body but didn't kill him. I am sure people on the train told you that you are known in our world as 'The Boy Who Lived', because of that occurrence. Some of us expect that the dark wizard, who calls himself Lord Voldemort, will be come back some day, and he will likely come after you. He was not the most forgiving of sorts. For your own safety, you need to know how to protect yourself from a very powerful wizard."

"As to the safety of the magical world, and I know that so far you have no reason to care about us, but we are a hidden society. The muggle world, at times, has come hunting for us. They had burned witches at the stake, hanged them, cut off their heads, and tortured them in ways too many and gruesome to recount to you at the moment. Burning doesn't work , by the way, but decapitation does, and torture is unpleasant to say the least."

"From long and painful experience, we know that if the general non-magical world finds out about people using magic, they will come hunting, because it has happened many times before. In the late Middle Ages, witch hunts started and lasted for over two hundred years, killing many thousands. Very few were actual witches or wizards, but a lot of our people were killed. Because of this, the Statutes of Secrecy were passed to keep our existence secret. If people see you using your magic, the persecution and killing may happen again. We would rather that not occur."

Harry nodded. All his life, he had been blamed for everything going wrong, but for all that, he had never wanted to hurt anyone (with a few notable exceptions). To have thousands of people massacred because of him, was not what he wanted. If it did, someone would beat him again. After all, that was how the world worked in his experience so far.

"You say I need to learn how to use my magic. I'm not going back to that school of yours. No way. I don't know why those people hate me, but I am not going back."

The witch nodded. "That is probably a very wise decision. Professor Dumbledore claims that Hogwarts is the safest place in the country, but there are a lot of students whose families were very closely tied to the evil wizard. Sometimes he is called the Dark Lord, or You-Know-Who, because people were terrified to even speak his name, even now ten years after you somehow sent him away. Some of his chief disciples managed to convince the authorities that they had been under spells to force them to follow him, although a lot of the authorities got very rich by accepting their excuses. Whether muggle or magical, there are a lot of corrupt politicians." Her aura of regret flared brightly with this admission.

Harry looked at her through narrowed eyes. "Did the old man send you after me? Why didn't he send that huge idiot who left me at the train station?"

The old woman shook her head. "No, the Headmaster is using more complicated magical tracking devices to try locate you in London. He convinced himself that you would go there, and you would get there very quickly. Sometimes, people look for complicated answers when a more simple approach works better."

"And Harry, please do not be too hard on Hagrid. He has a good heart, but he is not the brightest candle in the chapel, if you take my meaning. When he came to get you, he had been given an important confidential mission by the Headmaster, and unfortunately it drove all other considerations out of his head."

The boy scowled. "Then why are you here?"

She smiled quietly. "Mr. Potter, I have lived through several wars, both muggle and magical. When I was a student, there was a war against the Dark Lord Grindewald, and about a third of the magical population of the country fled or were killed, before Professor Dumbledore defeated him. Shortly before you were born, the war with Voldemort and his followers, called Death Eaters, killed thousands of both magical folk and muggles. Hogwarts was built to have about a thousand students, and we have only about three hundred now. Another war like that, and we may be wiped out completely."

"The Headmaster seems to believe, for some reason he won't tell even his closest allies, that you will be crucial to defeating Voldemort if or when he returns or his followers try to take his place. I don't know whether it is you who will defeat them, or we need to learn what you did on that night ten years ago when whatever you did stopped him. Personally, I think that something you did, or something you are, may be the key."

"And Harry, I am scared. I have seen too many friends and family die because of these people. I don't want to see more."

"And another thing, families should look after each other."

The boy grimaced. "Not that I have every seen! Not my family! And what's that to you?"

The witch smiled. "Well, your mother was one of my favourite students, and she became a good friend. I attended your parents' wedding. Also, my older sister Diana was your great-grandmother, so yes, we are family."

"Then where the hell were you when I was with those monsters?" he shrieked.

The orange of regret flared brightly again. "The Headmaster said he had arranged for special protection based on your relationship with your aunt. I objected vigorously, but apparently not hard enough. He forbade me to take you myself, or to foster you with other magical friends of your parents. You have to remember that Professor Dumbledore was revered in our world to an extent that would rival a saint. He is over a hundred and fifty years old, and holds a lot of powerful positions. Essentially, when Dumbledore speaks, people listen. When he says jump, people only ask 'how high' as they are on their way up."

"I am sorry, but I listened too. I was wrong."

"And this is also why I agree that you should not return to Hogwarts. I am starting to have grave doubts, about many things. I have been his most loyal follower for nearly twenty years, and an admirer for longer than that. In all that time, he has never trusted me enough to tell me why he thinks you are so important. He says he trusts Hagrid and Professor Snape with his life, but he will not trust anyone with vital information. Nor will he tell me why he trusts Professor Snape so much. If he cannot trust me after this time, why should I trust him so compleetely?"

"And Harry, I am starting to feel my age, and I am only half the age of the Headmaster. We are none of us immortal. If Professor Dumbledore were to be killed, all his information which he claims is crucial for our future would die with him. By hoarding his knowledge, he is putting us all at risk. He has kept his own council for so long, he has started to believe that he, and he alone, should make all the decisions."

"We are not children who must be told what to do. We are stronger from a position of knowledge, not ignorance, and he doesn't see that. If he cannot trust me, why must I trust him? Why do I trust him? That is why I say you cannot come back to Hogwarts."

Harry sat looking puzzled. "You say I need to be trained, but I shouldn't go to Hogwarts. Is there another school you want me to go to? Is there another school?"

The old witch smiled. "Not quite." She put her fingers to her mouth and whistled.

From out of the darkness, two large creatures approached. The larger of the two had the torso of a man blending into the body of a dark brown horse. The smaller centaur mare had a golden coat. Both had auras showing great confidence, and little by way of doubt. More importantly to the boy, they showed no malice. Their life essence was a different green than any Harry had ever seen before.

McGonagall turned to Harry and said, "Harry Potter, may I introduce Firenze and his mate Moira. Moira, Firenze, this is Harry Potter, of whom I spoke."

The centauress nodded to the boy. "Greetings, Harry Potter. Our Wise Ones have consulted the stars and portents, and have decided that we should take you under our tutelage. It has been seen that you have an important role in the futures of your kind and ours. We do not make this offer lightly, as you are one of the first of your kind to be taught by us in many hundreds of years."

"By the colour of your halo, we see that you do not trust us. You trust noone. From what Teacher McGonagall has told us, this is wise. It has been wise. From what she has told us, those around you were not to be trusted."

The boy's eyes widened. "You can see my aura? _My_ colours?"

Moira nodded. "All our folk can see the colours that surround living things. This is part of who and what we are, and how we see the world. One of the reasons we are willing to teach you is that you and we share this talent. In some ways we see the world in the same ways. We can see who to trust and who not. Will you accept our offer?""

Harry smiled at the centaurs and the elder witch. "You know, my uncle would have a heart attack if he saw this. He absolutely would not believe that beings such as yourselves could exist! He would bust a blood vessel, because in his world, this could not happen. This is fantastic! If for no other reason that to tweak his nose... "

Smiling, he took a deep breath, and turned to his new teachers politely. Bowing to the centaurs, he said "Thank you both. I accept you offer, most gladly."

Turning to the witch, he said, "I can't call you Professor, because I am never going to your school. What shall I call you?"

Minerva McGonagall smiled. "I think 'Aunt Minnie' would do for the present, and I would be pleased if you called me that."


	3. A Matter of Respect

**A Matter of Respect**

Disclaimer: I'm not her, I don't own anything of the Harry Potter universe, I know nothing, I see nothing, I was never here (a salute to the late John Banner). No money being made or even expected.

Warning: AU Rating M Language and suggestion of adult situations and activities

September 8, 1991 (Sunday)

The elderly witch sat in her private quarters at Hogwarts school. In her hand was a large mug of tea, heavily adulterated with the 'water-of-life', to translate the Gaelic. Her meetings and what could generously be called discussions with Harry Potter had shaken her badly, and for her own comfort, she had to figure out why they had upset her so.

The young wizard had categorically refused to attend Hogwarts, and had used the most disparaging terms to describe the staff of the school. On top of this, he had assaulted two other students of high and privileged social status within the wizarding community (and who, in Minerva's opinion, had probably thoroughly deserved it, from what she had seen of their behaviour).

In retrospect, she could understand Potter's point-of-view, which reflected badly on the institution where she had spent the better part of her life.

On top of this dismissal of her employer and to a degree, her occupation (of which she thought she could be justly proud), he accepted the invitation from the local centaur herd to live and study with them. And he had accepted with enthusiasm.

She had questioned the boy as to his enthusiasm, given his rejection of Hogwarts. He had pointed out that, as he could see people's emotions and essential beliefs in their auras, he could see that Hogwarts was almost completely filled with hate – Gryffindors hated Slytherins, Slytherins hated almost everybody who wasn't them, Ravenclaws had contempt for all the other houses who they thought were not their intellectual equals, and Snape seemed to hate absolutely everybody.

Harry had thought it seemed that Snape hated that he had to suck up to the Slytherins, who he thought were misguided fools, and he hated himself for it. It almost seemed Snape hated no one as much as he hated himself, for something Harry was not aware of. Moreover, he seemed to hate Harry merely for existing, as this seemed a part of his self-hate.

Personally, Harry hated his reputation, which he felt he had not earned, because it was something he had no recollection of doing, and no one knew what he had done anyway, other than the mere fact of his survival. He didn't want a reputation, he was not a superman, and for the first time in his life he had the opportunity to insist on being left alone.

He was thrilled with the centaurs' offer because it was for their own esoteric needs, and he detected neither hatred nor sycophancy in their offer. They had consulted their Wise Ones, and felt there was a need, for the first time in centuries. They did not interact with humans, not out of hate, but out of a wish to be left alone. And that attitude was one Harry could appreciate.

One thing that particularly struck the old witch's notice was that part of Harry's joy at being taken in by the centaurs was his delight that his uncle and aunt would have mental hernias by refusing to accept that Harry was or could be wanted by anybody, and in particular by creatures which they would most vehemently try to deny could even exist. The intensity of Harry's rejection of his relatives told McGonagall that Dumbledore has made an incredibly stupid mistake leaving Harry with them, and that she had made an unforgivable error in not vigorously opposing his actions.

It had become obvious to her that Harry had grown up in an environment where he was despised for what and who he was.

Minerva took another sip of her tea, and wondered again why the Headmaster had been so insistent of interfering with Harry's life. After all her work with the man over thirty years and through the war with Voldemort (which they almost lost), now he did not seem to trust her with that basic information.

The more she thought about Harry's rejection of Hogwarts, the more she could see how he came to feel the way he did. There was too much hatred, and the way the children of the Death Eaters were treated was just going to fuel another war at some point. Harry may have vanquished Voldemort (somehow), but his spirit and pure-blood bigotry lived on.

Perhaps by forcing the students together, and they got to know each other, the future could be altered. She had some time to speak to her colleagues, as the evenings of the first two weeks of every term were occupied with the prefects ushering first-years around the castle to get their bearings, to get over the motion sickness of the randomly moving staircases, and then the annual 'Welcome and you are about to go through Puberty' lectures where she, Aurora Sinistra and Poppy Pomfrey went over the topic with the new girls.

Perhaps she could not correct the past, but she could change the future. And perhaps she could regain some of her self-respect.

September 23 1991

It was after dinner on the Monday evening just after the weekend's equinox celebration, when Professor McGonagall (as Deputy Headmistress) and most of the staff met in the Great Hall with most of the student body. After the main course plates had been cleared and the dessert trays were being relieved of their contents, she stood and called for attention.

"I welcome all you returning students back to Hogwarts, and also to all you new first-years. I would like to announce that, this year, for the first time in about three hundred and forty five years, we are going to be organizing some student clubs. This way you can meet other student who share similar interests, and to broaden your horizons."

"We have set up a few clubs based on interests some of you have indicated in previous years, by starting clubs of your own. This way, with official support you can have access to more of the resources of the school, and perhaps move farther ahead in our endeavours. If any of you have specific interests and would like to start a club in another area, please see me or one of the other staff with your idea, and we will see what we can do."

"To start with, we are going to begin with four clubs. First, a Field Herbology club which Professor Sprout and I will sponsor – our first event with be a hike into the mountains north of the castle, to see the fall heather and other plants of the Scottish Highlands. For those of you in first year, and others, whose legs have not yet adapted to all the staircases in the castle, we will be bringing along lots of muscle liniment supplied by our own Madame Pomfrey."

"Second, we will have a beginners' Quidditch club. Many of you have expressed interest in playing, but at a less serious level than the House teams exhibit. This will be a purely fun club, and we suggest mixing up the members of teams from all the houses. Madame Hooch has graciously agreed to sponsor this club, but I may pop in once in a while and see if I can still fly as well as I did when I was on the Gryffindor team in my own school days."

A voice called out "What century was that in?", to which the witch smiled and said "I will have you know, Fred Weasley that I may not be as young as I was, but I can still get around. And by the bye, you just volunteered to help with the club." Fred covered his head with his hands, and gave a pitiful wail, to the amusement of the student body."

"Third, we will have a library club, which Professor Flitwick will be sponsoring. This club will look through some unused sections of the library, and see if they can discovery some spells and charms that have fallen out of use. Some because newer spells are more effective or useful, and some just because they were forgotten. I expect that this club may see a lot of Ravenclaws in it, but all who are interested in seeing how magic has changed overtime, or just finding out some odd charms are welcome."

She looked towards Hermione Granger, who could hardly remain in her seat at the Gryffindor table. The professor knew that the lonely girl was going to be in her element and might make some good friends outside her own House.

"Fourth, Professor Sinistra will be sponsoring a club for astronomy and paleo-astronomy. As part of this club's activities, you will be journeying to some of the stone circles that are located around the Highlands and the Orkney Islands. If we can arrange it, the year-end field trip will go south to the great ancient monument at Stonehenge."

"Also, the girls' sewing circle which has been running for many years, will continue, and the library club may be able to discover some old embroidery spells from hundreds of years ago, so you may find some overlap there."

"Now I must tell you that these clubs are entirely voluntary, except for Mr. Weasley who so graciously volunteered for the quidditch club"

At this point, a young girl's voice was heard. "Well, I'm not going to waste my time hanging around with a bunch of blood-traitors and mudbloods!"

There was a collective gasp from most of the students, with some chuckles heard from some of the Slytherin students.

Professor McGonagall looked over to the girl, and with steel in her voice. "Miss Parkinson, I gather you do not wish to share any of your precious your time with other students?"

Pansy looked around and smirked. "Nope, not these ones"

McGonagall smiled as the leader of the first year clique fell into the trap. Some of the upper year Slytherin students saw where the girl's mouth was leading her – they might hold the same prejudices, but you just didn't spout them off in front of the entire staff.

"I suppose you do not wish to take classes with those you consider unworthy, either."

Pansy Parkinson smirked again, ignoring some of the upper years Slytherins who saw her digging herself into the deep hole shaking their heads to indicate to her to shut up. "Absolutely. Most of these shouldn't even be allowed to have wands. I want nothing to do with them." She lifted her shoulders in 'triumph' and made as if to strut a bit.

McGonagall nodded. "I see. As you wish. Miss Parkinson, I shall arrange for you to be excused from all classes then." Pansy smiled, and looked around at her housemates, who looked back at her in shock, as the Deputy Headmistress sprung the trap.

"As you have elected to not take any classes here at Hogwarts, and not participate in any school activities, I have no choice but to send you home to be home-schooled. This institution has no room for those not engaged in the education we offer. I will, of course, speak to the Headmaster about having your tuition refunded to your family, minus the costs of your room and board to date." She was after all, a frugal Scot.

Pansy suddenly realised what had happened. She had just been expelled, and apparently it was appearing to the entire student body that it was entirely by her own choice.

She started to cry and wailed, "You can't do this to me. I have to be here to get together with Draco. That's what my family sent me here for."

The Professor smiled at her. It was a nasty smile. "Miss Parkinson, this school does not exist to facilitate your family's breeding program." Her use of the term was met by shocked silence. She had just equated the pure-blood families' matrimonial arrangements with livestock. "Arrangement will be made for you to leave in the morning."

Pansy snarled, starting to leave, and turned to Millicent Bulstrode. "Come on Bulstrode. Let's go, and leave these scum." She was shocked when the big girl stood her ground, and called out "Professor, what time does the hike start on Saturday. I would like to see the purple heather. I like flowers."

Parkinson stood there stunned. Her supposed power over the large brow-beaten girl had just vanished before her eyes, and she was truly alone. Looking around, even her Housemates were disgusted with her, for being so stupid. For a Slytherin to be so lacking in cunning was just intolerable.

McGonagall gestured to Pomona Sprout, who smiled back and said, "We should leave around 8 in the morning. That way, we will be well into the heather fields as the dew evaporates – that's when the fragrance is the most intense."

McGonagall clapped her hands to get attention again, and said, "And with that bit of unpleasantness behind us, I bid you all goodnight. Classes will start at their usual time tomorrow morning."

October 5, 1991 (Saturday)

At the end of the weekly staff meeting, Headmaster Dumbledore asked Professor McGonagall to stay for a moment. Also remaining as the rest of the staff left was Professor Flitwick and Professor Snape. As Minerva McGonagall had little time for the potions master, she was puzzled by this inclusion in this additional and apparently secret meeting.

Dumbledore started by saying, "Minerva, I should have told you quite some time ago, but Severus has been acting as a spy for those of us on what could be called the 'Light' who fought against Voldemort up to ten years ago. When Harry Potter did whatever it was to banish the Dark Lord, many of his followers managed to bribe their way out of prison, and remain active to this day. I have reason to believe that Voldemort was not completely destroyed, and will someday try to return. It is therefore imperative that we keep an eye on those who would like to prepare for his return, or alternately if I am wrong and he was totally vanquished, to replace him as the next Dark Lord."

As she gasped at this possibility, Dumbledore continued, "Professor Snape has been, quite intentionally I might add, a complete pain in the ass to those in other houses who are of the 'Light' persuasion, and visibly supportive of those on the Dark side. This is the only way he can maintain enough trust from the former followers of Voldemort, his Death eaters, to be an effective spy. The information he has collected has allowed us to stymy several of their activities, but in ways that appear random or coincidental."

"The reason that I have not told you of these things before is that you are not skilled in occlumency, and unfortunately, many of the Death Eaters are quite accomplished Legilimencers. Further, I suspect that several of the children of Death Eaters have been getting lessons on legilimency, and I feared that they would pull things from your mind that they must not know. Marcus Flint, for one, I know has some ability in this area, as I have detected some of his attempts to probe my mind.. I have kept important secrets from you I have had Professor Flitwick here researching spells which can provide you with the mental blocks you will need. Filius, please?"

The diminutive professor approached McGonagall. "Minerva, we have worked together for thirty years, and I trust you with my life. I ask you to trust me on this. I have found some old Celtic druids' spells and charms which will provide you with some good mental shields, just as they did against the Roman wizards who invaded these lands. This is to protect you, and us. May I have your permission to bespell you?"

McGonagall thought for a moment, and then nodded. Here was the answer to her mistrust of the Headmaster, and she knew she would not learn the critical secrets without the spells.

Flitwick spent the next five minutes casting spells and charms that were obviously unknown to the others, and in a language that was also unfamiliar to the others, although Minerva thought she caught some old Gaelic words from the days of her youth in the Highlands. He nodded to the Headmaster, and bowed his head to the witch, quietly thanking her for her trust.

The Headmaster looked into her eyes, and nodded. Smiling, he said "All I can see in your mind is a fondness for mice." She quickly transformed into a cat, meowed, and changed back smiling.

Snape nodded. Turning to McGonagall, he said, "I have been keeping a watch on young Mr. Malfoy carefully. His father was very highly placed in the Death Eaters, and with his money and smooth talk, has managed to secure himself great influence with the Ministry. Many at the Ministry have fallen under his sway, which makes it very dangerous to act publically. It is prudent, even imperative, to diminish Draco Malfoy's influence within Slytherin House."

"When young Mr. Potter, well, beat the snot out of Malfoy, and injured two of my House who were for all practical purposes here only as his bodyguards, and then you managed to get rid of Pansy Parkinson eliminating his influence of the female half of Slytherin, Mr. Malfoy has been losing his power over the other students, in a big way. His father is very much annoyed by this turn of events, and young Draco is becoming desperate to regain his position of authority with his housemates. We must prevent this from happening."

"As he has very little self-control over his mouth, and apparently little contact between his mouth and his brain, I suspect that he will come up with some outburst or incredibly stupid act, and very soon. To maintain my cover and remain an effective spy, I cannotreprimand his as severely as I would like, or is needed to take the wind out of his sails in a more-or-less permanent fashion."

"The Headmaster, Professor Flitwick and I have discussed this at some length, and came up with the following plan. Filius has told us that Miss Granger has been gaining good friends and a lot of confidence in the library club – however, she is still over-enthusiastic to prove herself. As a muggle-borne and a brilliant student (I know Minerva, you are surprised by me making this appraisal, but I am not as stupid as I carefully lead people to believe), Malfoy despises her for everything she is. At some point, we can arrange, or it may occur on its own, to make an announcement that Miss Granger finds illogical and thus unacceptable. She will then surely object to the announcement (either from her own sense of superiority, or with some subtle encouragement of this trait over time), and I will denounce her and take Gryffindor points. At this point, Draco Malfoy is absolutely certain to do something incredibly stupid that as a pure-blood he is sure to think he can get away with, and make some disparaging remarks, at which point, we need you to use your authority and either publically overrule me, or punish Malfoy, or both. You must exert your authority over me."

"In this way, Malfoy gets punished as I wish I could do on my own but cannot for political reasons, and you reinforce your authority in the school. To the offspring of the Death Eaters, it will appear that I have more reason to resent your authority for punishing a Slytherin. Other Slytherin students, who are starting to drift away from Malfoy's influence, will be disgusted by his arrogance and stupidity, and losing them house points. If anything, this should reduce any power the Malfoy name still has in Slytherin. With luck, it will negate his power, and that of his father."

"We think that this will serve the purposes of all of us."

Minerva thought about this for several minute. She was not stupid, and looked at it from all angles. This could work. This could really work. Now to find an occasion to spring the trap, and make sure it did not appear to be a trap.

Further, for the first time in the many years she had known him, she had some respect for Severus Snape. It did not take much to increase her respect for the man, as she had had none to begin with.

As she left the meeting, she felt a lessening of the need to believe what she was told, and wondered what kind of compulsion charms had been floating around the meeting. Filius' words percolated in her brain. Among the words of the spell, Filius had definitely added the words of the old Gaelic warning from the days of clan feuds "Trust not these men."

The more she thought about it, the less what she had been told made sense. She had known where Dumbledore had hidden Harry Potter with his relatives for over ten years, and there had never been any indication that her mind had been read by anyone. No attacks on Privet Drive, and no indication of nefarious interest in the area. If that secret had been safe in her head, either the secrets that had been held back were truly monumental, or she was being lied to.

October 31, 1991

It "was the late afternoon of All Hallows Eve, and important date on the wizarding calendar.

In preparation for the annual feast in the Great Hall, Professor Flitwick had 'his' library club give a presentation on Hallowe'en customs around the world. The entire hall laughed aloud when Mercedes Shacklebolt described how American children would dress up as what they thought were witches and wizards and other creatures that had more to do with Hollywood than Hogwarts. The castle ghosts sat in rapt attention as Hermione Granger, the youngest member and quickly becoming a pivotal member of the group, spoke of the Mexican festival of the Days of the Dead when the living reconnected and paid homage to the relatives who had gone before. Sir Nicholas visibly wept recalling his departed wife Felicity, who had not joined him in the life-after-life.

Throughout the presentation, Draco Malfoy could be heard mumbling about the waste of time hearing about muggle traditions that had no place in the 'real' world'. He was about to work himself into a major rant about even allowing mudbloods into the school when Professor Quirrel burst into the room.

"A troll. There's a troll in the dungeon!" he cried out, just before he fainted spectacularly.

Professor Dumbledore applied his wand to his neck to cast the 'Sonarus', and bellowed out, "Quiet! Prefects, take your houses back to their common rooms, immediately!"

A young female voice yelled out, "No! Stop! Don't leave here!"

Professor Snape looked over at Hermione Granger, and after a quick hidden smile towards Dumbledore and McGonagall, bellowed out, "Fifty points from Gryffindor, and tomorrow night's detention, Miss Granger, for interrupting and contradicting the Headmaster!"

Draco Malfoy could not leave this opportunity alone, and yelled out, "Take that you damned mudblood!", at which point Minerva McGonagall pointed her wand at him and shouted "That will be eighty points from Slytherin, Mr. Malfoy, and a week's detentions!"

Still smiling in a way that the students could not see, Snape turned to McGonagall and shouted, "He is in my House. I will discipline him!"

McGonagall responded, "And you should then remember that Miss Granger is in My House, but you would take it upon yourself to discipline her. I must also remind you that I am the Deputy, and have the authority to maintain discipline over the entire school."

"Hold!', was heard from the Headmaster. "Miss Granger, please explain yourself!" This was obviously not a request she could refuse.

Hermione stood and looked at the head table. She gulped, but continued, "Well, sir, the Slytherin common room is in the dungeons, it is not? If that's where the troll is, send the Slytherins there might be sending them directly to the troll. They would be safer here with the staff."

Dumbledore nodded. "Very good, Miss Granger. Fifty points to Gryffindor, for looking out for your schoolmates, even if you did interrupt me."

Malfoy screamed "You can't give her points for pretending she gives a shit about anybody but herself!"

Dumbledore looked at the young man who considered himself a prince of the wizarding world, and added, "And that's another hundred points from Slytherin, Mr. Malfoy, and another week's detention."

At this point, Malfoy's sense of entitlement got the better of him, and he yelled out, "You can't do this to me you old bat! You and that bitch will pay for this!"

McGonagall turned away from Snape to smile a nasty smile at Malfoy, and said calmly, "That's now two hundred and eighty points from Slytherin, and three week's detention."

At Malfoy's exclamation of, "My father will hear about this, and then you all are going to suffer. You can't….", she interrupted "Three hundred and eighty points Mr. Malfoy, and a month of detentions for threatening your teachers. Another outburst from you, and you may find it difficult to leave for the summer break!"

Malfoy looked like he was about to explode, when the heavy hand of a Slytherin prefect slammed him down into his seat, and the entire hall heard, "Shut the hell up, Malfoy, before you lose us the House Cup for the next generation!"

Looking around to his housemates for support, Draco Malfoy found himself very much alone at his table. Even his 'bookends', Crabbe and Goyle, had moved as far away from him as they could while remaining within reach of the food on the table. Crabbe still had discomfort walking the halls and climbing the stairs since the last time he tried to back up Malfoy's mouth, and he was loath to repeat the situation.


	4. Detention

**Detention**

The Usual Disclaimer: No intent to usurp copyright, no money being made, nothing. I own nothing of the Potterverse, so I still have to go to work on Monday.

November 21, 1991

Hermione Granger was disgusted. It was the evening of the full moon, and she had planned to meet up with the library club after supper, and then Professor Snape had given her a detention. She had been late for his potions class, as the library session had run long and she forgot (briefly) how long it took to the dungeon classroom from the library.

Then as she ran into the classroom, he had the gall to penalize her ten points for breathing too loudly for being out of breath. And gave her a detention to be served that very evening in the company of Draco Malfoy, just to add insult to injury (although the boy was very likely to add a number of insults himself as well).

As the evenings were getting colder, she had brought her fall cloak down to the front doors, where she met Draco and Professor McGonagall, as well as Hagrid who was to supervise their detention. As the group started away from the castle, it was clear that the elder witch was coming with them.

To have a professor accompanying them was so unusual, Hermione had to ask why she was coming along when this was most abnormal under the circumstances. The professor smiled, and awarded her ten points for a clever deduction (thereby replacing the points Snape had deducted, and getting a sneer from Malfoy).

Minerva looked at the two first year students, and said, "I have always felt that a detention should not be seen as punishment, but as a learning experience. This evening, we are going into the Forbidden Forest, to witness a very special event. One that I have only witnessed once, more than a half century ago when I was a schoolgirl here myself."

Draco looked shocked. "But the Forbidden Forest is just that, 'Forbidden'. We're not allowed to go in there. The Headmaster told us that." The fact that he had even listened to, and more that he remembered, what the Headmaster had said surprised the other three.

Hagrid nodded. "What yer need tae know is this. The Ferbidden Forest is not ferbidden by the Headmaster, or any of us two-legged folk. It's forbidden **to** us. It's the territory of the centaurs – proud creatures they are, and they don't want no more to do with us than they can help. They find us far too warlike and barbaric for their tastes. I talked to Firenze back a bit, and he somehow got us permission from his people for us, just us four mind, tae enter the forest tonight. It's a special honour from them, so I don't want either of you young'uns to abuse it. Or them, should we run into any of them."

"I should also point out that, there are things in there that you do not want to be messin' with. So stick close to the perfessor and me, and ye'll be alright." Hagrid's wolfhound Fang (or drool-hound, if truth be known) came along with them, but stuck close to Hagrid as if he was terrified of the forest as well.

At this, Draco's curiosity rose. In spite of the contempt which he had for the head Gryffindor and what he had been taught to consider a half-breed, he was also obsessed with power, as he had been losing his power in Slytherin House and he resented it. It was obvious that the Professor and the Gamekeeper did consider the wood a dangerous location, and that something in there had the power to forbid wizarding kind from entering. Given that he had been brought up to consider wizards to be the most powerful beings in creation, if there was something so powerful that they could forbid passage, he wanted to learn about them.

The professor looked at the two students, and added, "As I say, I hope this is a special treat for you two. When I was a second year, I and a couple other Gryffindor girls snuck into the forest. Scared witless we were, but we saw something marvellous that we had never expected. Martha and Shirley never got to see it again, rest their souls. This year, Firenze's folk have very kindly granted us this rare privilege."

"Miss Granger, Mr. Malfoy, I hope that you find the event as fascinating and beautiful as I did, all those years ago."

Malfoy tried to look blasé, but now he was definitely intrigued, in spite of himself.

The four (plus the dog) moved carefully into the forest, proceeding quietly and cautiously. Malfoy kept looking right and left, expecting something horrible to jump out at him at any moment. Hermione was also looking around into the dark of the woods, but seeing how McGonagall and Hagrid had confident looks on their faces, she had no fear, although she was a little apprehensive after the mysterious half-description that her favourite teacher had given.

Minerva was looking forward to this event personally, but moreover, she wanted to share the rare event with these two students. First she wanted to share some of the beauty of the magical world with Hermione, who, in large part due to her time with the library club, was starting to come into her own as a brilliant and confident witch. Second, she wanted to show Draco Malfoy that the magical world was not just a place for bigotry and hatred. But mostly, Harry Potter's comments about her not seeming to have any joy in her life had been all too true – since the war with Voldemort, the world have been a cold place to Minerva, and she had retreated behind a screen of the stern schoolteacher. Harry's comments had hurt her, mostly because they had been so true and very much to the point. It was time she did something about it.

Minerva had thought long and hard about Harry's diatribe about her never smiling, and she recognised that it was also true. She many-times felt that she was in a harsh detention herself, and had been for most of her life. When she had first arrived at Hogwarts in 1936, she had been such a carefree lass from the Highlands, but the horrors she had experienced over time had put a permanent damper on her enthusiasm for life.

Much of the joy in her life ended while she was still at school during the Grindewald war; Shirley had been killed back then. Then during the Voldemort war, so many others has been killed – her friend Martha had been captured by Death Eaters, and Minerva wished she could convince herself that Martha's death had been quick and painless, but she could not because that's not the typical fate of women taken prisoner by the Death Eaters. When her favourite student and her husband (who in Minerva's opinion had been a compete asshole for most of his student years, until he fell head-over-heels in love with Lily) were betrayed and murdered, leaving an infant son who now appeared to despise her, it seemed like there would be no joy ever again.

Then when the captured Death Eaters bought their way to freedom, and she now had to teach their unrepentant offspring, Minerva's world view was anything but rosy.

However, tonight, she could maybe inject some of the joy back into her life, and smile again. And perhaps, by sharing this, she could turn the little potential monster, who accompanied her, away from his seemingly ordained path.

As they progressed through the forest, Draco kept looking around in fear, while trying in vain to maintain his most truculent sneer. "What are we doing here? This is pointless. When my father ...", at which point the Professor said quietly "Hush", and Hagrid added in what would pass for a normal person as a shout "Your father has been informed of your detentions, and we need to be quiet. There are things here you wouldn't be wanting to wake up, and we don't want to disturb them, nor the ones we're actually comin' tae see, neither."

This of course aroused Hermione's curiosity. "Hagrid, Professor, what are we here to see?"

Minerva smiled, and she enjoyed the unfamiliar feeling. "Miss Granger, Mr. Malfoy. Hagrid has arranged permission for us to witness an annual event. A very special and normally very private ceremony which has been witnessed by very few humans. Each year, on the evening of the full moon a month before the winter solstice, the new unicorn foals are presented to the herd for their approval and acceptance. Many humans never see a unicorn throughout their entire lives, and most of the rest never see more than one. We will see the entire herd that live within this forest. This is their territory, theirs and that of the centaurs. This is why the forest is forbidden to us. It is theirs, not ours".

Malfoy snarled, "That's rubbish. They have no right to forbid us anything. They are just beasts! We can go anywhere we like, and they can't say anything about it!"

He heard a soft chuckle from Hagrid (or as soft as the big man could manage). "Malfoy, if ye had entered these woods without their permission, and without me and the Perfesser here with you, it would be most unlikely that you would come out, well maybe a bone or two, and nothing yer father or his owner can say would change that fact."

Malfoy was about to explode at this comment and shout that his father was not owned, when McGonagall gave a sharp "Hush!", and gestured tht they all crouch behind a fallen tree truck at the side of a lake. Across the lake, they could see a score or more adult unicorns standing still, as if waiting for something. They all seemed to glow, and whether it was the full moonlight on their coats, or an inner glow, it was impossible to tell. There seemed to be several different shades to the glow.

One by one, a small group of pairs of unicorns emerged from the forest in front of the gathered adults. In each pair, there was an adult with a full-sized horn which glowed gold in the moonlight, and a smaller one with a short horn, apparently a mare and her foal of the year. The smaller of the two of each pair did not glow.

Two by two, each pair slowly approached the herd. A number of the herd moved to meet each pair, and moved around the foal as if inspecting it. After a short time, and the adults making slight gestures to each other as if in consultation, one of the adults touched the foal's horn with theirs, one by one, and the foal began to glow as well in the same shade as the adult who had touched its horn. This apparently marked the herd accepting the new addition, and the mother and foal entered the rest of the herd together.

After about an hour, all the new foals had been accepted, and the herd slowly vanished into the forest.

From behind the four watchers, a deep voice said quietly, "Something akin to your own sorting ceremony, wasn't it?"


	5. Epiphany

**Epiphany**

**A/N:** This story decided to go a slightly different direction than I had originally intended, but so be it. Remember, this is AU. Also, it's diatribe time again.

**Standard Disclaimer:** I am not blonde, female, British or rich, so Harry Potter is definitely not mine. Some OC's and their behaviour are mine, and definitely non-canonical.

**Warning:** References to some extreme nastiness

From behind the four watchers, a deep voice said quietly, "Something akin to your own sorting ceremony, wasn't it?"

The four turned, to see a group of centaurs had quietly arrayed themselves behind where they had been watching the unicorns from. Two, the stallion who had spoken, and the mare standing beside him, carried bows, but the other four on each side of the pair carried bows, as well as daggers in a scabbard slung to one side, and a long sword slung to the other side of their bodies. These eight had metal covers over the fronts of their hooves.

Whether the eight were an honour guard, or warriors ready for battle, was an open question, and one that the four humans did not care to have answered in the near future.

Hagrid stepped forward, and spoke. Politely, and formally, but with a touch of familiarity and respect, although little by way of obvious friendship. "Ah, Firenze. And you as well Moira. Thanks fer arranging for us, that is, me, the Perfessor, and these two young'uns, to see this. It were really special."

McGonagall nodded. "Yes, thank you for allowing us to attend this. I have not seen the like for a half-century, when I was a girl. It was wonderful, and with all my heart, I thank you."

The younger witch held up her hand, as if to ask permission to speak. The large centaur smiled at her, and said, "Ah. Hermione of the Granger herd. We have heard of your thirst, no, your obsession for knowledge. What do you wish to ask?"

She blushed but asked, "Sir. I understood that only virgins could see unicorns." Looking up at her professor and Hagrid, she blushed further and continued, "But we all could see them. I don't understand."

McGonagall blushed too. In her youth, girls talked about sex behind closed doors, but it was certainly not discussed in front of strangers that you had just met. She knew that times had changed, as they always do, but her early upbringing still held some sway. However, she was pleased that Hermione would let nothing get in the way of her seeking knowledge, not even her own modesty.

The centaur stallion murmured something in his own language to his companions, who all smiled broadly. He then tilted his head back and laughed out loud. Smiling at the young human he said, "You humans are so obsessed with sex - it amuses us! Your problem, Miss Granger, is that over the years, the tales passed through many cultures, who all added their own biases to the information. When what you call the ancient Egyptians first wrote down their encounters with the horned ones, their idea of purity involved having a pure spirit and heart, and their passage into the afterlife depended on it. The Christian monks who translated the stories from previous generations were obsessed with sex, and dreamed up the bizarre concept that humankind was inherently wicked due to Eve's transgression, which they called the original sin. To them, the natural functions and acts of sex were inherently and themselves sins, which is odd as they lived in gender-segregated communities, so to them 'purity' meant having never had physical relationships. There are many who have been sexually experienced, but who have pure hearts, while there are many whose hearts would not have passed the Egyptians' tests in the afterlife, but who are yet virgins." With this, he looked at Draco and scowled.

"The Egyptians were, shall I say, more correct. All can see the unicorns, but they are a very shy creature. Only those who are pure of heart can approach them, or touch them. In previous times, the younger humans were taught nothing about sex, often to their detriment, and so innocence, ignorance and virginity were all linked together."

With this, Hermione was blushing more fiercely than before, but she nodded and thanked the stallion for the lesson.

At this moment, Draco felt he needed to take charge of the situation. He sneered as he asked, "Why are we wasting our precious time talking to this _animal_ here?"

A voice from their recent past came from the group of centaurs, as Harry Potter stepped out from the group. "Perhaps it's to see if you can move past the hatred that your father has so carefully taught you and which has been consuming you, as it was consuming me, and maybe even perceive that there is something beautiful and magnificent in this world."

As the sight of the boy who had injured him physically and politically, obliterating his self-styled importance in Slytherin House, Draco drew his wand and started to shout a curse at Potter. But before he could get the words of the unforgivable curse out of his mouth, Potter gestured slightly with his hand and Draco's wand exploded in a flash of light. Draco's hand was burnt, and his entire arm flopped down to his side.

The young blond tried to raise his injured hand, but found that all of the bones in his arm had disappeared.

Firenze turned to Harry and very sternly asked, "Harry Potter, what have you been taught about battle?"

Harry hung down his head, a bit embarrassed and shamed. "I am sorry, teacher. I was surprised. In battle, it is acceptable to kill, because that is most likely the objective of your opponent. It is acceptable to wound to stop a fight which is not 'to the death', but you must not drop your guard until the non-lethal outcome is proven correct, as your opponent may fake injury to put you off-guard. However, permanently maiming or crippling harms your spirit as much as it does their body, and is the mark of a diseased mind."

Firenze nodded. "Very good. You are young and have only been taught our ways for a couple months. But do not forget again. Being surprised in battle can get you killed. Now, what have you been taught about killing and death?"

Harry Potter gulped, as he was being quizzed in front of people who were not necessarily friends. He answered, "Death is a natural and normal part of the cycle of life. _All_ life, except for some plants, feed off nutrients from things that have gone before. Death releases the spirit to whatever comes after."

The centaur asked, more kindly, "And what comes after?"

Harry smiled, as this was a lesson he found intriguing. "Nobody really knows, although many claim to know with absolute certainty. Different religions claim different things. Some say that the spirit just ceases, which many people find too uncomfortable for their liking. Some teach that the spirit goes to a place of happiness or torment, depending on how they spent their time in this life. Many others claim that the spirit returns to this life in a new body, with the debts and benefits from the previous incarnation determining the new status. There is one that teaches that we are caught in this cycle until we become enlightened to the true reality of the universe. But nobody, at least nobody I have ever met, really knows. So our role in this life is to be as good as we can, in case one of them is correct."

Firenze nodded. "So can you fix the injuries you have caused to young Malfoy? To do the best you can in this life."

Harry shook his head sadly. "No, teacher, I am sorry. I have not learned that yet."

The large stallion nodded sagely. "Very good, Harry Potter. It is often necessary to be aware of what we do not know, and to be aware of our faults and our failings. In this way, we do our best to not repeat them. In the future, you will learn how to heal the injuries you caused when this young fool attacked you."

All for humans were shocked by this statement, with Draco, of course, being shocked the worst. He started with his usual whine of "When my father hears about this", when he was sharply interrupted by the large centaur.

"Draco Malfoy, your father has no authority within these woods. Neither he, nor the monster he had enslaved himself to, nor his delusional followers, has any power within this forest. Those who have enter this land without our permission never leave!"

Draco, who was whining and whimpering loudly, shook his head. "But my father is a powerful pure-blood wizard. He is an honoured member of the Wizengamot. The Death Eaters are invincible."

Firenze translated Draco's comments to his companions, who began to laugh.

The centaur looked at Draco, and shook his head at the young wizard's stupidity. :Draco Malfoy, your grandfather was a honorable man. Your Dark Lord had him murdered when your family refused to support his reign of terror. This put your father at the head of your family. Your father, who proudly bears his brand like cattle! Do you know how you gain that brand?"

Draco smiled and said "The Dark Lord gives you the Dark Mark when you serve him well!"

The centaurs laughed at this remark as well, once Firenze translated for them.

"Young human, you get branded like the obedient cattle you are, by committing murder at your Dark Lord's command. There is nothing honourable about murdering innocent and helpless people."

Draco protested, "But they were only mudbloods and blood-traitors!"

The centaur scowled. "How can a two-year old child be a traitor to anything? How is raping and murdering a five-year old girl honourable. All that does is prove you are so corrupt that there is no turning away from your depravity and from your enslavement to the abomination that calls himself a Lord! He is performing unnatural dark rituals to make himself immortal. And then, he will not need your father, nor any of his friends any more. How long do you think they will survive when that happens?"

At this point, the younger witch was being physically sick hearing of how Death Eaters got their marks.

Draco gulped. The centaur was lying. He had to be lying! Definitely had to! Draco yelled, but with an uncertain quiver in his voice, as his aura began to flare with the growing doubt, "You're lying!"

He turned to two of the centaurs with him "Clarissa, Horatio, please come forward and display your trophies. You humans may recognise the patterns. I assure you, the Death Eaters are very 'vincible', to use your terminology."

Two of the armed centaurs, a mare and a stallion, came out of the group, and showed capes which were decorated with a familiar pattern. Looking more closely, the humans could see that the capes were made up on hundreds of pieces of skin all bearing the Dark Mark, which had been sewn together to form the capes.

Firenze then held up a case with a large number of small jars within it, each of which contained something that looked like a wisp of silver thread. He looked at Draco with a sad smile, and asked softly, "Would you like to see the memories of those we questioned. Some of the memories are of our interrogations, but many were of the Death Eaters' previous meetings with your so-called Dark Lord. I think you would find the ones where your father reported his 'successful' killing of the innocent family, or your aunt's description of torturing a young boy, who oddly looked a bit like yourself, most enlightening."

Firenze turned back to the humans. In disgust, he looked the whining human, and made a slight gesture. The young man found that the bones in his arm had been replaced and were all in their correct positions.

Draco was once again shocked at the centaur's powers. He knew that regrowing bones could be a painful and slow process, yet the centaur had replaced them in just an instant with his gesture. A gesture which seemed completely effortless to the creature.

On top of that, he remembered his father waxing eloquent about how the Dark Lord had with a significant effort, wandlessly and silently, summoned a drinking glass from across the room, something even the most powerful wizards could not do. The centaur had done much more that that, and with a seemingly trivial effort! Just to stop his whining!

"Draco Malfoy. About the time you were born, there was a major war when your Dark Lord tried to take over the country. Several times, he sent squads of his Death Eaters into The Forest near the nearby town of Hogsmeade, on days when the students from your school were to visit. From those we questioned, we learned that their orders were to massacre everyone in the town, including all the students, whether they were pure-bloods or first-generational. All the families of the Death Eaters had been warned not to go to the town on those days. All of the Death Eaters did eat death that day, and Aragog and his kin also ate well."

At Hermione's puzzled look, Hagrid murmured, "Aragog is the King of the giant spiders who live in the forest. Nasty beasts, they are. I can tell you, you don't want ter meet them. Spiders eat things."

Draco looked at the centaur in disbelief. "You couldn't have killed them all. That's impossible." The centaurs rippled their capes in response. Their meaning was clear to all.

Draco shook his head. "You didn't even treat their bodies with respect. They were all pure-bloods!"

Firenze translated this comment, and the centaurs chuckled. He then turned to the humans, and said "But we did treat them with respect. They called us 'Vermin' and announced that we should all be exterminated as the vermin we were. So yes, we treated them with respect. The very same respect they showed us. None!"

"Your precious Dark Lord sent several attempts to massacre the townspeople. None succeeded, as you can see. With some of the later attempts, we asked some of those we captured how He had treated the families of his oh-so loyal servants who had fallen attempting to carry out his orders, just to see how 'honoured' his dead were. He had declared that they all had failed him and proved they were unworthy of his Greatness. He then ordered his Death Eaters to murder their remaining families, as they had shown themselves to be 'unsuitable' to be called pure-bloods."

"That is the Great Wizard that your father has sworn his loyalty to. The one who branded him and his associates like the cattle they are, given the way He treats them. The wealth that your father is using to seduce the vain and the gullible was the plunder from the families the Death Eaters murdered. Your father's only value to the Dark Lord is his ability to take the stolen gold and undermine any and all attempts to make your world a safer and more just place, by convincing the greedy and stupid to ignore what should not be ignored."

Looking at the other humans, he added, "And this is what they would hold to be the ideal of wizardkind! Can any of you wonder why we forbid your kind from entering this Forest?"

Draco sat down hard onto the ground. He looked over at Hagrid, Professor McGonagall and Hermione Granger. The elder witch has very pale, and Hermione was curled on the ground weeping uncontrollably after being very sick – she had just witnessed a beautiful event in the magic world, and now she was hearing of some of its horrors. Hagrid had heard the stories before, and was scowling at Draco.

Draco ran this new information through his mind. He didn't want to believe any of it, but the capes told the tales very clearly.

Draco had trusted the stories of the Greatness of the Dark Lord. He had trusted the claims that the Dark Lord was supremely powerful, yet here was a creature his family had dismissed as not worth consideration, doing feats of magic that even the Dark Lord could not.

Draco had trusted his father...

Author's Note: This story went a very different direction than I had originally envisioned, but I think it worked. Hope you like how it ended.


	6. The Essential Nature of Apologies

The Essential Nature of Apologies

**Disclaimer:** The usual – I owned nothing of the Potterverse, and so am still a wage-slave. Damn it. I have, however, paid off my car loan.

While the four humans were standing beside the centaur herd, Harry Potter stepped quietly towards Hermione Granger. He knelt down beside her, oblivious to the fact he knelt down on the spot where she have been vomiting. However, just before his knees reached the soiled ground, Minerva McGonagall cast a quick scourgification' spell.

Harry took the girl's hands and raised her to her knees, facing him. He said, "I am very sorry I yelled at you, Hermione. I know now that we were both reacting to a world we did not understand and which hated us, although for different reasons. You hid behind your book-knowledge as a way to shield yourself from those who did not understand you."

"I struck out in a rage against those who felt they could abuse me and others with impunity – I had put up with that for most of my life, and I was told that the magical world would be different, it would be better. When that was shown to be a lie, I struck out, and in my rage, I yelled at you. For that I am sorry."

The young human stood and looked to Professor McGonagall. ""Professor, Aunt Minnie, I must also apologize for what I said to you. I understand now how your life has had losses that no person should be required to bear. You have been through two devastating wars, and many of your closest friends were killed, sometimes in very unpleasant ways. Due to the corrupt world we live in, you are now required to teach the children of those who murdered your loved ones." With this, he looked at Draco Malfoy, with a look of disgust on his face.

Turning to the huge man, he said "Hagrid, I am sorry for my words to you. I understand now that you had a very important secret mission for the Headmaster, and you got distracted. You still laboured under the assumption that I must have know things about the magical world that I did not, like how to find the train. What I still don't understand is why you are not allowed to do magic."

Hagrid blushed. "Well, yer see, a while back when I was going tae Hogwatrs myself, a girl was killed at the school and I were blamed for it, and I were expelled and my wand snapped."

Harry looked puzzled. "Did you have anything to do it?"

Hagrid shook his head. "No, I had nothing to do with it, but being as my mum was a giant, I got blamed anyway. Even with that, Headmaster Dumbledore made sure I got the job of gamekeeper at Hogwarts – he looked after me. Being part-giant, there was no way that authorities were going to reverse their rulings. A great man, Dumbeldore. He looked after me, in spite of it all."

Harry's face started getting red with rage again. "Does the Headmaster know you were innocent? You said he has a couple very important offices. He should have been able to correct this travesty. How long ago was this?"

Standing to the side, with a bit of a shocked look on her face, the elder witch quietly said, "It was 48 years ago."

Harry exploded. "Fourty-eight years, and one of the most important men in the magical world knows you were innocent, and has done nothing to reverse this miscarriage of justice! No bloody way I'm having anything to do with a place he is running, or a world where this kind of rabid bigotry is allowed to poison the way people behave! And where people let their hatred and bigotry stand even when they know it's wrong!"

"You may think he's great man, but he's just like my uncle. He wants every one to believe he's a great man, but he just talks a good game. He makes all the right noises so everyone thinks he's fantastic, but all he seems to do is, well, nothing. He hides his inactivity behind a great story. He doesn't do bugger all! Supposedly, I am part of a prophecy to get rid of Voldemort permanently, but what has he done to get rid of Voldemort's followers, or getting society to reject the poison that feeds Voldemort's program and his followers. Nothing! Absolutely nothing!"

Hagrid's face was very pale as everything he had believed collapsed around him.

Draco spoke up. "Well, when are you going to apologize to me, Harry Potter?"

Harry turned to the young blond wizard. "Why the hell do you think I should apologize to you? Ever?"

Draco said , "But you injured me. You hurt me. You can't do that."

Harry smiled with a very nasty grin, "And you think your attacking other people around you didn't merit you being punished?"

Draco answered, "Just told them the truth. You're a half-blood, and your girlfriend there is a mudblood. You attacked me with no reason."

Harry shook his head. "You attack other people with words, and you don't see that you are attacking people. You think that your bigoted opinions are beyond question, and the fact that you hurt other people is not important, because you are not accountable for your words. You are wrong. Your hateful words are direct attacks, and my hurting you was a direct response in reaction to your hatred. You hate people who contradict your beliefs in your own superiority, your own place in the world. Well, that's too fucking bad, Draco. It's just too bad!"

Firenze looked at Minerva, and said "Please cast the spell, my lady."

The elderly witch nodded, raised her wand and spoke "Aurae Vidimus!", and to the two students, the world was filled with colour."

Firenze looked at Draco, and asked, "Do you now see the aura around you and around the others, Draco Malfoy? Your aura is filled with the colours of hate, and the lust for power. Not the desire to learn about power, but the hunger to have and weald power over others. Not for any good, but only for your glorification. You believe that in order for you to win, they must lose."

"On top of that, you see an apology as a sign of weakness, and so you want harry to apologize to prove that you are stronger than him, so your own power is enhanced. Well, you are wrong – the ability to apologies lies in the strength to admit our own faults, and to correct our errors. You cannot admit that you were wrong, and for you to admit it, you believe, would mean you are weak."

The centaur then asked, "Do any of you know the parable of the full teacup?"

To the surprise of many of the group, Hagrid began to speak. "The abbot at the monastery was interviewing the new novitiates to see who was worthy to become a full-fledged monk. As he spoke to them, he served tea in small cups. One of the brightest students talked forcibly about what he had learned and what he wanted to learn and what he wanted to do with the monastery when he eventually became abbot, as he believed was his destiny."

"As the student was speaking, the abbot continued to pour tea into the cup. Soon, the student noticed the tea cup was overflowing and the tea was running over the table."

"The student remarked 'Sir, the tea cup is overflowing!', and the abbot smiled. He said, 'Young man, like the tea cup, you are overflowing. There is no way you can take in more, until you empty your own cup. You have no room to learn anything more, because you like the tea cup, are too full."

Draco looked puzzled. He did not understand.

The centaurs and the older humans nodded.

Ever the inquisitive one, Hermione looked at Hagrid and asked, "Where did you learn that. I have read it in books about Zen teachings, in my parents' library, but there is nothing like it at Hogwarts. I know, I looked."

Hagrid smiled. "You may not know that I am kind of like an ambassador to the Yetis in Tibet, and the dragon ranches in China and Japan. Them, and us at Hogwarts, have kind of an exchange program. You see, I teach about magical beasts, and we have arranged that a couple yetis come over for a couple weeks in winter, when the weather is to their liking, and the odd dragon come spring after they have fed after their winter hibernation. In exchange, I go over there for a couple weeks – it seems an Englishman who has no interest is colonizing their country is long been considered completely mythical in their societies. While I'm there, I get to play with their dragons, and I pick up a bit of wisdom on the side."

Firenze turned back to Draco. "Young Malfoy, your thirst for power is quite contrary to our ways. We can see that you are hungry, even desperate, to learn our ways, but only as a way for you to take power over others. This is not the way of our teachings. "

"Draco Malfoy, it is not that we will not teach you. With your craving for dominance, we cannot teach you. When you have emptied yourself of your hatred of others, and your obsession with power, then we may be able to teach you our ways. But not now, perhaps not ever. Only the future will show which is the case."

"You were brought here tonight so that you could see that there is beauty in our world. Beauty that does not lie in the quest for power, but in the natural way of things. Ours can be a beautiful world, if you choose that as your path."

"However, young Draco Malfoy, if you follow in your father's footsteps, you will make yourself our deadly enemy, and we will treat you as such, and you have been shown how we deal with our enemies. Think carefully, because the choice is yours, and yours alone."

**Author's note: **Many people see an apology as a sign of weakness and having to give an apology as a sign of inferior power.

Another common mistake is mistaking regret as an apology. It is a common 'joke' that when you step on a Canadian's foot, they say "I am sorry". This is not an apology, but a statement regretting the event occurred and that both were inconvenienced. It's along the same lines as saying "I am sorry that you are a complete idiot" – the person is regretting, but not apologizing. There is a good description of this misunderstanding in a scene in the book 'King John of Canada' by Scott Gardiner (a good read, although I am dissatisfied with the ending).


	7. Trust Misplaced

Trust Misplaced

Disclaimer: I still don't own anything of the Potterverse. I only write this for my own enjoyment or catharsis. If others also enjoy it, I appreciate it but don't really expect it. I recall seeing a rather crude comedy show that had the disclaimer "Viewer discretion is advised but not expected."

Minerva McGonagall was strolling down the corridor of the teachers' residential wing and the sixth floor of the castle, chatting with Filius Flitwick about this and that, discussing various teaching techniques and some previous students they had shared. As they approached her own quarters, the diminutive teacher saw her brow furrow, and enquire, "Can I ask a question about something that has puzzled me? It has to do with a Gaelic phrase you expressed to me."

The Charms professor's eyes opened wider, but said our loud, "Certainly, Minerva. We both love ancient languages from our history, and I would be glad to help." As he said this he nodded his head towards his own private quarters in an imperative manner.

As they entered his apartment, Flitwick closed the door and immediately cast some powerful privacy spells. McGonagall looked around his sitting room and saw that he had no paintings on the walls. Her glance was noticed by the small man, who smiled and nodded. He said, "I prefer my private quarters to be just that, private, and all the Hogwarts paintings are required to report things they see to the Headmaster, should he ask. A remnant of the days of the Norman invasion and the reign of Henry the Eighth, both times when the castle had to defend its inhabitants from unwelcome visitors who wanted control of everything they could grab quickly."

The elder witch nodded and smiled. "Is this why you cast the additional mind-protection spells in the Headmaster's offices? I have noticed that I seem to be more inclined to agree with him when I am there, and that fact is beginning to disturb me. I hate to think he doesn't trust me anymore, but evidence is accumulating, even if I would prefer not to believe it."

The Charms master nodded. "I have to agree with you. I do know that there are mild compulsion charms in the Head's offices, again from past centuries when the defence of the castle required that the Headmaster's plans meet with general approval and quickly. However, I too have noticed that they have been strengthened recently, and I don't think I like it. I don't think I like it one bit."

"Minnie, you were a good strategist at Quidditch, and a hell of a chess player too, but remember that I was at the top of the dueling league for many years. To accomplish that, you have be get to the point where you can almost read your opponent's mind, even without using legimency. You learn to block mind-probes, but still read the cues. This is why I warned you about the Headmaster and Snape. I can see that your trust in the Headmaster is failing, and you never did trust Snape as far as you could throw a bludger. I don't trust either one of them any longer, and I suspect it has to do with Harry Potter."

McGonagall grimaced, and said "I got that from your comment in Gaelic. I had thought my shields were fine until Albus implied they were not. Fil, I have to say that I had not been aware of any issues, or any attacks in the last ten years since Potter was placed with his relatives."

Flitwick nodded. "Minnie, I checked your mental shields, and they were fine, and to a very high degree. But since Potter has come out of hiding, I have seen that Dumbledore has become quite obsessed with him. I suspect he believes that Voldemort's followers are going to attack him, and us, and try to find out what he did to the Dark Lord ten years ago."

"To me, it seems like Dumbledore, and Snape, are both worried that Voldemort wasn't completely killed by whatever Potter did, or what happened when his parents were murdered. Perhaps a spell that his mother cast, some old protective magic that we don't know about. Whatever it was, I believe that there was a prophecy made that ties Harry Potter and Voldemort together, as least in the minds of Snape and Dumbledore. I don't know what it is, but Albus is obsessed with getting Potter under his protection and more, under his control. And somehow, Snape is involved. I know that Snape hated James Potter, and this seems to have been passed down onto Harry's poor head, which is part of why Harry is not in attendance with us. Snape has his own agenda, and I get the feeling that somehow, Dumbledore forced him to swear something related to Potter. I just can't quite figure out what, because his actions contradict any rationale explanation I have come up with. The closest I can come up with is that Dumbledore had Snape swear to protect Potter, the look-alike son of the man he hated more than anyone in the world, and the mental conflict is a problem for him."

"Potter's absolute refusal to come back to Hogwarts seems to have upset the applecart badly for the both of them. Dumbledore wants him here, and Snape very much does not. I suspect this means there is trouble ahead, and the two are going to fall out over it."

"His obsession seems to be distracting the Headmaster from his duties. You know that last year, before Potter came to us, he would never have missed the troll coming into the castle and scaring the bejeesus out of young Miss Granger. I don't know whether it is his obsession, or he's just getting too old for the job, or just what's going on. But I don't like it, and I'm worried."

"Minnie, I don't know exactly what they are up to, but they aren't telling us the full story, and that's why I don't really trust either of them at the moment. As the two senior members of staff, I think we have to keep our eyes open and our minds well protected."

McGonagall nodded. "He keeps claiming that Hogwarts is the safest place in the country, yet this year, we had the troll get in somehow, and he refuses to let us look into the matter and determine how it got in. Potter was abused and then he attacked and injured some students, although I must say I suspect that was deserved. Students are attacking each other in the halls, and Professor Snape refuses to discipline them, claiming he needs to maintain his 'cover' with the Dar Side types. Fil, I am very much unhappy with what's going on. I agree, we have to keep a weather eye on the Headmaster."

As was typical on the third Thursday of each month, Minister of Magic Cornelius Fudge flooed to the office of Headmaster Dumbledore. As was also standard practice, he was accompanied by two Aurors of his personal protection staff. Fudge was going to a meeting in a supposedly very secure location, and so he brought only two, just to maintain his all-important protocol and as befit his belief in his proper status, rather than the ten he usually travelled with, really more to demonstrate his importance than from actual paranoia.

What was not typical was that as he and his entourage arrived, they were met with a massive barrage of red spellfire.

When Headmaster Dumbledore revived the Minister, he introduced Fudge to retired Master Auror Alastor Moody. The old retired auror was sitting calmly in a corner, with his wand very much pointed at Fudge's security detail who all lay on the office floor, stunned.

Fudge faced Dumbledore, and screamed in rage, "What the hell are you trying to pull off, Dumbledore? Are you trying to assassinate me, so that you can take over as Minister?"

Dumbledore smiled. "Far from it, Cornelius. I have absolutely no desire to be the Minister of Magic, or even to replace you at the moment with another candidate. I do, however, have some serious qualms about those you have surrounded yourself with. Your security people for example."

Fudge shook his head. "I don't believe you! I come here for our regular meeting, and I am attacked! By this cripple!" as he pointed at Moody. "I presume you trust him!"

Dumbledore smiled, with his eyes twinkling (which pissed off Fudge as always). "I trust Alastor precisely because he trusts no one. No one!"

Fudge glared at the retired auror, and said "I don't believe you. This is another one of your lies to supplant me as Minister!"

Dumbledore raised his wand, and spoke formally, "I swear on my life and magic that I have no wish to become the Minster of Magic!" Lowering his wand, he looked at Fudge and said, "now do you believe me?"

Fudge glowered, and said "Okay, so you don't want my job, but I can't believe that he doesn't trust you."

To Fudge's surprise, both the other two conscious wizards laughed.

Dumbledore smiled as he said "Alastor and I fought together in the Grindewald war and the Voldemort war too. However, every time we meet, even to this day, he holds me at wand-point until I can tell him about some event that only he and I witnessed, or where we were alone together and that only the two of us could know. Even then, there have been times where he had his wand in hand until enough time past for polyjuice to wear off. Just like he now refused to let me revive you until adequate time had passed."

Fudge looked at the grizzled old man, and asked, "And what special abilities do you have, Master Auror, and what benefit has your chronic and obsessive mistrust gained you?"

Moody smiled, and said quietly, "I'm still alive! And a hell of a lot of others aren't! Good people all, but they trusted people and now they are dead. That's not a mistake I intend to make."

Fudge looked down at his bodyguards, who were still lying on the office floor, stunned. Turning to Moody, he demanded, "Well, aren't you going to revive them?"

Moody smiled. "All in good time Minister. In Good time." With that, he cast a spell that ripped the left arm of the aurors' robes, exposing their left forearms. He nodded, and cast _Enervate _at the two.

As they awoke, and looked from Moody, whom they knew well if only by reputation, and then at Fudge, Moody looked at them as said "Welcome back to the world, boys. Now, if you can help me with these other four."

Fudge shook his head angrily, and shouted at Moody, "Other four! What other four?"

Moody smiled, and casting the spell removed the disillusionment on two lying on the floor, and reaching down, pulled off invisibility cloaks from two more. The then cast the same ripping charm, exposing the left arms of the four, all of which clearly displayed their Dark Mark tattoos.

Turning to Fudge, he smiled and said, "These four, your blind idiot. It must be nice for you travelling with a Death Eater escort everywhere. Probably to make sure you don't see or do things you shouldn't."

Pulling a vial from a pocket, he revived one of them and poured the Veritaserum down the man's throat. Reviving the person, who now looked at four wands pointed at him, Moody asked, "Under whose orders are you travelling with the Minister?"

With glassy eyes, the man tried to fight the effects of the truth potion, but eventually said clearly, "Lucius Malfoy."

Fudge shook his head. "Impossible! Malfoy is a good friend and a good man."

Moody shook his head, and said, "Fudge, you better pick your friends more carefully. You have been played for a fool. Malfoy always was and is a Death Eater and is currently their leader, since young Potter blew away their master."

Grimacing, Moody turned back to his prisoner, and asked, knowing that Fudge had to be told, "Was Lucius ever under the Imperius curse?"

The death eater laughed. "Hell no! We all found it hilarious that you all fell for that crap. Nobody got the dark mark except by choice. The Dark Lord insisted that his servants did so willingly, and only by committing actions in his name. If you weren't his, body and soul, you didn't get The Mark, and you didn't live long. Fudge, we all laughed at you."

Fudge shook his head, in spite of both Moody and Dumbledore nodded at the statement. The one thing the egotistical politician could not tolerate, or even accept the possibility of, was ridicule. He sputtered, "But Malfoy was found to be innocent – he was under the Imperious! He had to be. They proved that in court!"

Dumbledore quietly shook his head. "Cornelius, there was no trial. There was not even a questioning, and he certainly was not questioned under veritaserum. He and all the others just claimed they were under the spell, and they were let off. Right about the same time Minister Bagnold retired from a job that only paid thirty thousand galleons a year, into a mansion that cost fifteen million. Where do you think she got all that money? Likely from the same place Malfoy got the funds to donate to your re-election fund. The Death Eater bank accounts. And where do you think they got all that money? It was not from their own old family money, because other than the Malfoys, most of the ones who were let off didn't have rich families."

"No, I think you will find that most of the money, and some of the gifts that you have been getting, were loot from Death Eater activities. Cornelius, you have been receiving blood money, and Alastor and I think it a very good idea for you to stop accepting it. In addition, we think it a good time for you to take a close look at some of the people close to you, and some in the Ministry who have achieved high offices through means besides just their merit."

"Minister, it is time to clean the rats out of the house!"

Fudge continued to bluster. "We have to cover this up. If the people learn about this, I am finished! This has to be kept out of the Prophet!"

Moody looked at Fudge in disgust. "Minister, I have already sent a note to the Prophet, pointing out that if they don't publish the truth this time, I will arrange for _their_ crimes to be made public. No! I have seen too many good people die because to the lies that you and your predecessors put out there. It ends now. _You_ end now."


	8. Trust Revoked

**Trust Revoked**

**Disclaimer**: The usual stuff. I still don't own anything of the largest children's book publishing and movie franchise in history (outside the Disney empire). Damn.

**Warning:** Course language and some nastiness. Dumbledore bashing.

Cornelius Fudge was trying desperately to figure out a way to cover his ass given the latest revelations. If nothing else, he could blame some of it on the previous administration, but having four marked death eaters among his security staff, and disillusioned at that as if he himself was trying to hide this fact from the wizarding world, it certainly did not look good for him at all.

As he was mulling over his future, or rather the lack of one, Minerva McGonagall and a bunch of others burst into the Headmaster's office. With the irate senior witch was Angus Filch, the caretaker, holding a cat which was howling, apparently in pain. Also in the group were Filius Flitwick, Hagrid and Madame Pomfrey the school medi-witch. Hagrid was carrying a limp naked body over his shoulder, which he lay down on the floor.

As this group arrived, Dumbledore's floo flared green and Amelia Bones, the head of the Department of Magical Law enforcement, stepped through with some of her more senior and trusted aurors. She looked at McGonagall, and said, "Minerva, you asked me to come and said it was very serious. Please explain!"

Fudge looked at the chief of his law enforcement department, and breathed a bit of a sigh of relief, as she apparently had come for something besides his own humiliation.

McGonagall gestured to Hagrid who laid the body on the floor. The Dark Mark on his left forearm was clearly visible to all.

Amelia and Albus Dumbledore gasped. Bones looked over at McGonagall and exclaimed, "But that's Peter Pettigrew!

Fudge shook his head. "That's impossible. Pettigrew is dead! He was murdered by Sirius Black!"

McGonagall looked at the politician in utter disgust. "Well, he's certainly dead. He is now anyway. Mrs. Norris," gesturing to the injured cat, "just killed him. Obviously Sirius Black did not kill him, and the Ministry throwing Black into Azkaban for it was a serious miscarriage of justice."

Bones looked at Minerva, and asked, "You say this cat killed him. How on earth could a cat kill a fully grown man?"

At this the aforesaid cat yowled, and Poppy Pomfrey aimed her wand at the animal and cast a mild stunner. She said, "Sorry about that, but I wasn't able to give her a pain-reducing potion."

Fudge asked, stupidly, "Why not? You're supposed to be the medi-witch. Why couldn't you give a simple potion to a dumb animal?"

Poppy looked at the Minister who clearly, in her mind, was the dumb one. She smiled slightly, and asked him "Have you ever tried to give medicine to a cat? Apparently not. Hagrid and I each needed a whole jar of scratch ointment! And that was just for trying to give her a pain reducer."

Smiling, Minerva turned to Bones, ignoring the Minster who as always was trying to seize control of the situation, and said, "You need to know that Pettigrew and two of his friends were animagi, as I am. His animal form was a rat, and in that form he has been hiding for the last ten years as Percy Weasley's pet. He has been sneaking around the castle like that for a couple years now. Anyway, Mrs. Norris, the cat, catches rats and tonight she caught and killed him in his rat body. Unfortunately for the poor creature, when he died he changed back into his human form while she still had her jaws locked on him. Her jaw was badly dislocated and she lost a couple of teeth as well."

The cat yowled again.

"Poppy did what she could for the moment, but this needed to be brought to the attention of the law and the Headmaster, immediately."

Turning to Dumbledore, McGonagall's face displayed her intense anger. As she turned, she felt a subtle weakening of the charms the castle provided the headmaster, and she no longer felt compelled to accept his authority. It seemed that the magic of the castle itself anticipated her anger and her subsequent actions.

"Albus, the castle's wards should have kept him out! During the Voldemort war, the wards were reinforced and adjusted so no one with a Dark Mark could enter. This was absolutely essential for the safety of the students!"

Dumbledore took on his self-important posture. "That part of the wards were removed after Harry Potter banished the Dark Lord, as they were deemed no longer necessary, and also to allow Severus Snape to join the staff."

McGonagall raged, "You mean you removed a critical safety measure so that your bloody spy could come in, and put the whole school in jeopardy just for him. Even knowing that all his Death Eater friends were being left loose in the world to wreak havoc! He's the worst teacher Hogwarts has ever had!"

"And as a spy, he has been completely useless! He has never given us any intelligence that allowed us or the aurors to stop any of their more recent attacks. We only get there after the attacks to count the bodies. Bloody useless as a spy, wouldn't you say!"

Albus put on his best 'hurt' look. "I trust Severus with my life. He is a fantastic teacher."

Minerva gasped in shock. "A fantastic teacher? Have you lost your fucking mind? The only fantasy here is your unquestioning belief in him! The man couldn't teach a pigeon to shit on a statue, and you dropped the wards so he could hide out in the castle. Albus, you know damned well that the Ministry let all the Death Eaters off with, at worst, a slap on the wrist, and you removed the most critical safety wards without even consulting me the Deputy Headmistress, or the rest of the senior staff! Is this what you are telling me?"

Dumbledore nodded. "It was for the Greater Goo…"

McGonagall interrupted his standard excuse. "Don't give me that Greater Good bullshit! You put the students and staff of this school at risk, so your pet spy could come in. And now, you brought that bloody stone into the castle, you say to keep it safe, but you are using it as bait to see if Voldemort's ghost will come after it. Is that because you still cling to that stupid prophecy?"

Dumbledore was frantically trying to wave Minerva into silence, and even tried to cast a Silencio spell at her, but Moody, Bones and Flitwick had just as quickly put up shields around the irate witch. It was now obvious that the castle no longer accepted his overriding authority.

Minerva shook her head and continued her rant. "Albus, that prophecy was given to you by a drunken charlatan who was so desperate for the job that, if you had not bought her babbling about the Dark Lord, would probably have jumped your bones and banged you until your eyes rolled back in our head! Prophecy be damned, and you made Harry Potter's life a living hell because of it!

Minerva turned and pointed at Hagrid. "And Albus, this man has worshipped you for years, and you have not gotten his expulsion revoked, even though you knew the truth! You knew! He was innocent."

Dumbledore said meekly, "With his heritage, I didn't think that I could ever get it through the Board or the Ministry."

McGonagall gasped. "You didn't think it would go through? Did you try? No! So in all the years that you have been Headmaster, Supreme Mugwump and Chief Warlock all together, you didn't think you could get it through, even for a man who has been your most loyal devotee? You fucking idiot, you didn't even try!"

She straightened up and extended her arms. Dumbledore knew what she was about the do, and waved his wand, but the shields still held, as the others poured power into them.

McGonagall declaimed "I call on the power of the Founders, and the Magic of Hogwarts, and I declare that Albus Dumbledore has proven himself unworthy to be Headmaster of this School. I call on the school to remove his authority over the School and its Wards!"

The group felt a surge of magic, as the wards reset themselves. McGonagall felt a surge of power entering her body, and Fawkes the phoenix flew over to land on her shoulder as the school accepted her as its only lawful authority. Dumbledore sagged in his chair.

She looked at the firebird, and scowled. "Thank you Fawkes, but I don't want the bloody job. I want to teach, not run this place!"

Amelia Bones spoke up softly. "You know, Alastor Moody was a very good teacher and administrator when I was at the academy. And I happen to know he is currently unemployed."

Trilling a joyous song, the phoenix flew over and landed on Moody's shoulders, and rubbed its head on his gristled cheek. He growled, and said 'Ami, you've been trying to get me back on the force for years, and now you want to stick me with this job. Ah well. I suppose I could do it until they find somebody who actually wants it."

While this was going on, Poppy Pomfrey had run over to Dumbledore, who had collapsed into his office chair. As the power of the castle left him, he visibly changed from looking like he was in his 90's to his actual hundred and a half years. The years had not been kind to him, and it was obvious that he was now feeling every minute of them.

Moody shook his head. "You know, he has been slipping badly the last few years. I thought it might be his obsession with the Potter boy, but I see it might be his age too. My always questioning him about who he was, which seemed to be me being even more paranoid than I know I am, was my way to check if he still had his marbles. Minerva, he was failing. Fading slowly but surely. He did a lot in his life, but he is old."

Minerva smiled, "Mad-eye, I am sorry I had to do that to him, but it was necessary. Thank you for taking on the position, even if it is only for a while. But I have to ask, why did you quit the DMLE? You were at the top, and an excellent teacher."

Moody sat and tapped his false leg, and pointed his wand at Fudge, who was sitting with his mouth hanging open at all of what he had just witnessed. "At the end of the last war, the administrators were all getting rich on bribes we weren't being allowed to investigate, from people we were not allowed to prosecute, or go after, and they let those killers walk free. I felt I didn't have any more body parts to spare, certainly not for the Ministry pay scale anyway, while they were all getting rich and letting loose those who had murdered my friends. I decided, no damned way I was going to put myself at any more risk for Them!"

Lucius Malfoy was not having a good day. Instead of being instantly shown into the Minister's office as had been his right, he was told that the Minster was too busy to see him that day, or indeed for the rest of the week.

As he left Fudge's office suite fuming, he noticed that his carefully installed personnel were not where they should be, and all of the aurors he could see were the ones loyal to Bones and the blood-traitors, and not his own men. He was about to storm down to Bone's office and lay down the law to her, when Dobby his house elf appeared at his feet.

"Master, you must be coming home. Master's special friends are there and wanting him. Mistress is entertaining master's friends, but she is not enjoying it."

Malfoy knew the kind of entertainment his fellow Death Eaters preferred as he had been part of their festivities so many times himself, and had organised many of them, so he quickly moved to the apparition point and an eye-blink later arrived in the foyer of his mansion. He was the head of their organization, and it sounded like he was going to have to assert his authority.

In the large parlour, there were more than twenty Death Eaters, in full regalia. His wife was, as Dobby had said, entertaining them and not enjoying it, giving how this group liked to be entertained. Her unclothed body was levitated over the large table, turning slowly in the air, and her naked back and buttocks showed recent acquaintance with the cat-of-nine-tails that was being passed from person to person.

As Malfoy moved into the room demanding to know what the hell they thought they were doing, there was a slight shifting of the group so that they were surrounding him. It became impossible to keep his eyes on them all. He recognised the execution circle as it formed.

Yaxley smiled and said, "Lucius, you have been a naughty boy. You were supposed to be keeping all the gold to further the Dark Lord's program, and here we see you living in luxury while most of us have to work for a living. That doesn't seem to be an option anymore, because of your failing us. And when you fail us, you fail our Lord too."

"And now, the boys you had tailing Fudge have all been caught, and instead of keeping their mouths shut, are singing like birds. You were supposed to keep Bones off our backs, and most of our people were just detained for questioning. Only this time, I hear they are breaking out the veritaserum, in large doses." Gesturing to the group, he continued, "Those of us loyal followers of our Lord just got away in time."

"And we hear from Hogwarts that your son is going soft. These days, he is turning into a blood-traitor! This is not acceptable! So we have decided that you need to give us the Dark Lord's treasures and his money, and **we** will look after it. We don't think that you're one of us any more!"

Lucius stood tall. "How dare you speak to me this way? I have been working day and night to bend the Ministry to the Dark Lord's policies and programs. We need to use those galleons to keep our people free and effective. If we dole it out, the Dark Lord's whole plan falls apart!"

McNair shook his head. "Lucius, you may have been handing out the bribes, but from what we see today, it's not working. You see, our problem is that we don't trust you anymore. We can't trust you anymore."

Lucius knew well what the next step would be when the Death Eaters did not trust you. He had often been the one leading the executions.

Malfoy's wand dropped into his hand as the ring of Death Eaters raised their wands and shouted the killing curse. Malfoy had the presence of mind to drop to the ground and all but one of the curses flew over his head, hitting all of the other Death Eaters, proving once again that Malfoy had been one of the brighter ones.

Unfortunately for Malfoy, McNair had been the executioner of magical beasts, and knew how they would try to avoid his axe. His wand and his killing curse followed Malfoy to the ground, and the curse was on its way by the time Flint's curse hit him, and the executioner received what he had given out so many times.

As the Death Eaters finally ate their fair share of what they had dished out to so many others, the levitation spell holding Narcissa in the air ceased, and she dropped painfully onto the large table.

Dobby and the other house elves popped into the room, and looked at the bodies of the most feared group in Britain for the last twenty years or so. He looked down at the wizard who had mistreated him and his kind for years, as had his father before him, and then turned to the witch who had always treated his folk with contempt, but never brutality.

Dobby went up to Lady Malfoy as she lay groaning on the table, and smiling asked, "Will Mistress be wanting us to clean up the room before dinner?"


	9. Changing of the Guard

**Changing of the Guard**

**(The Boy Who Trusted Nobody)**

**Disclaimer**: I still don't own anything of the Potterverse. Rats.

**Warning:** Things getting better, sort of. Bashing pretty much everybody

January 3, 1992

The students came into the Great Hall for dinner, having just returned on the Express from their Christmas break, expecting the usual collection of teachers and Headmaster Dumbledore in his ornate throne in the centre of the head table. They had the weekend to settle in before classes resumed for the winter term, a weekend where they could goof off, hang around with friends or just get into trouble. As usual.

Everything was going to be as usual. They were wrong.

Professor Dumbledore was sitting in the spot usually occupied by Professor Snape. His throne was missing from the centre of the head table, replaced by an ordinary chair. Well, as ordinary as any of the teachers' chairs were.

Three chairs at the head table were empty, and there was one set back away from the main table. The chair where Professor Quirrel had sat was vacant, as was Professor Trelawney's seat. There was also a place reserved for Professor Binns, but the ghost had never attended the mid-year welcoming feast. However, Professor Snape's seat was being occupied by Professor Dumbledore.

A man, who although not old appeared to be middle-aged, stumped his way to the middle of the table, where the Headmaster had previously sat. He was a strange-looking person, with one eye replaced with a magical orb, which was looking seemingly in all directions at once. He was missing one leg, which was replaced by a wooden prosthetic or at least it appeared so.

Following the man into the Great Hall were a youngish-looking man who moved as it he had been around the block more than a few times. As he moved to the chair assigned to Binns, he stopped and spoke for a moment with Dumbledore with the two wizards shaking hands and smiling as if they were old acquaintances.

Following the man was a witch, a middle-aged woman with a vivid scar down her right cheek. She looked around the table as if assessing the teachers, and seemed to hold herself apart as if she expected an attack at any time and from any direction. The scarred man gestured to an empty chair, and politely said "Helena, please be seated."

Following these two came a centaur mare, accompanied by a short human boy, dressed in buckskin.

At this point, a haughty voice was heard coming from the Slytherin table. "Since when do we allow animals in here during meals?" Several of the other students at the same table laughed briefly, until the human with the centaur stepped forward and made a slight gesture with his hand. He held no wand, and had made no incantation.

Suddenly the speaker found himself ten metres up in the air, with his hands and legs bound together and his head pointing towards the ground at an angle where the boy could clearly see the stone floor below him.

The young boy with the centaur gestured again, without saying any incantation, and the Slytherin boy dropped straight towards the ground stopping suddenly a couple inches above the floor. Although he was squirming fiercely, he could not use his hands or feet to stop his fall. Another gesture, and the Slytherin was ten meters up again.

When he had narrowly missed colliding with the floor, five wands dropped out of his clothing. Four of them were coloured a plain black finish, to be as inconspicuous as possible. As this happened, several of the older Slytherin students had drawn their own wands and were pointing them at the boy.

Draco Malfoy, who had just spent the previous weeks helping the recovery of his mother who was now the Regent for the family, put his head down on the table shaking it as if to be ashamed of the stupidity being displayed by his housemates.

The scarred man turned to the boy with the centaur, and said loudly and clearly, "Hold! We need those wands!"

At this point, the centaur held a hand up, and in a soft voice was heard to say, "Harry my paddock one learner, enough. Sit." The centaur moved to the table, while the boy obediently sat down in the vacant chair.

Whispering went around the Hall as some of the students recognised the boy as Harry Potter.

The scarred man stood and had his own wand out, and bellowed "Accio Wands! Brachiae sinistre revealum!"" The five wands that had fallen out of the suspended boy's clothing, and all the wands the other students were pointing at Harry Potter, flew into the man's hands. At the same time, the sleeves over their left arms disappeared, revealing a dark tattoo. He looked at the wands and the tattoos and murmured quietly "ah." Holding one that had dropped from the boy's pockets, he then turned to the woman who had entered with him, and asked, "Helena, can you take a look at this one?"

She looked at the wand he held up, brought up her own and cast "Priori Incantatae!" A list appeared in fiery letters before her. She blanched, and turning to the scarred man nodded. She then cast "Victimae Priorae" and another list appeared before her. Her face went quite white, and she turned to the man and said, "Alastor some of these are our people! We need to call in, well, you know who." He nodded, and turning to the south wall of the Hall, cast the Patronus charm, and whispered to the wolverine that appeared, which then ran through the wall of the castle.

The older students all cringed at the news that 'You-know-who' had been summoned. Why this man was calling for the Dark Lord was strange and shocking.

The scarred man nodded at the assembled table of the school's teachers. Momentarily, several hooded figures appeared beside him. He gestured towards the students, and announced, "Contrary to your apparent expectations, I did not call for Lord Voldemort. I don't put up with the 'You-know-who' or 'He-who-must-not-be-named' bullshit, telling people that if you said the name, bad things would happen. That was a tactic used in the last war to spread terror, and that was all it was. It is a phoney name for a half-blood terrorist, and the whole mystique is a load of crap!"

"His actual name was Tom Riddle, but he calls himself Lord Voldemort. It's a made up name. He was Head Boy here many years ago, and was a very clever boy, managing to convince many others of his lies and deceptions. He claimed to be a pure-blood and the rightful heir to Salazar Slytherin, and although he was a descendent of Slytherin, he was the bastard half-blood son of a muggle squire and a witch who seduced him using a love potion."

"No, these people are Hit Wizards, part of an elite group of battle-trained aurors." Looking at the boy still suspended in the air, he continued, "Mr. Flint, according to your wand, or should I say, your multiple illegal wands, you have been an extremely naughty boy. The wands show you have cast many Unforgivable curses, including the killing curse. However, the dates of a couple of those curses indicate that your father or mother was the one who casts some of them, unless you were able to cast these curses when you were only two years old. Quite a number of these Unforgivables were your own."

"I need to point out to you, and all you others as well, that as of now, Unforgivables are just that. The word now means what it is supposed to mean. These curses will not be forgiven. The castle's wards have been adjusted, and if an Unforgivable curse is detected anywhere within Hogwart's walls or lands, all wands, and I do mean all wands including those of the staff, will be checked."

"If you wonder why the staff's wands will be checked, in previous years several criminals claimed that they had committed crimes while under the Imperious curse, and were let off. Aurors are trained to resist the Imperious, but it takes time. This way, there can be no question of responsibility!"

Looking at the wands taken from the other students, he cast prior charm detection, and showed the results for the lead hit wizard. The wizard, whose cloak and hood hid his or her identity, asked "The Cuckoo's Nest?" The scarred man nodded sadly. He then called for three of the students

"Marigold Parkinson, Tobias Nott, and Alonzo Goyle, come forward."

The last named screamed "You can't do this. My father will make sure you can't! The Dark Lord has said we cannot be touched!"

The scarred man smiled a very nasty smile, and said, "Young man, you will find your father and the Dark Lord have no say in this or any other matter at Hogwarts now. And you will find that your wishes and demands, and in fact those of the self-proclaimed Dark Lord, carry absolutely no weight." Turning to the lead wizard, he nodded, and the hit wizards and the four students vanished.

A female voice called out, "Excuse me sir, but what is the Cuckoo's Nest they mentioned?"

The man turned towards the Gryffindor table and looked at the bushy-haired firsty. "Ah, Miss Granger, I have heard of you. I will answer your question with a question, as you are said to be fond of learning. Where does a cuckoo bird raise its young?"

The young girl stood tall and said, "Sir, the English cuckoo does not raise its own young. They lay their eggs in the nest of other birds, and the other birds raise the young cuckoos, often to the detriment of their own chicks."

The man smiled. "Very good. Ten points to Gryffindor. Now for another ten points, what would a cuckoo's nest be, given how they raise their young? Have you ever heard of a cuckoo's nest before?"

The girl blushed. "My dad used to sing an old folk song about a cuckoo's nest, meaning the genitals of a woman being seduced, so planting his seed with no intent to raise the young which might occur. Otherwise, a cuckoo's nest would be some place that doesn't exist."

The man nodded and smiled, as many students snickered at the risqué reference. Yes, Miss Granger. The Cuckoo's Nest does not exist. At least not officially."

"Anyway, back to business."

"My name is Alastor Moody, and I am your new Headmaster until they can find someone more qualified and willing to take the job. Previously, I was the Head and chief instructor at the Auror Academy, and survived the last three wizarding wars against Fooflenurg, Grindewald and Voldemort, although as you can see, not completely intact."

"Your previous Headmaster, Professor Dumbledore," as he gestured to the old man, "is working towards his well-deserved retirement, and for the foreseeable future will be resuming his previous post as Potions Master for the school. Your previous Potions instructor, Professor Snape, has taken a new post as head of potions research for St. Mungo's hospital and also adjunct professor at the Uluru Institute for Indigenous Potions research in Australia, seeking to find ways to incorporate their ancient ways into our knowledge. He will not be returning to Hogwarts."

"Professor Binns has been made aware of the fact that he died some time ago, and has passed on. We are fortunate that Nicholas Flamel has been willing to take his place. Professor Flamel, as you may know from your chocolate frogs' cards, has working with Professor Dumbledore for well over a century of magical history."

"Professor Trelawney has retired to a cottage on the Hogwarts grounds, where she will likely continue her research into a number of potions." There were numerous snickers from the students who were well aware of the Divination teacher's predilection to cooking sherry. Gesturing to the centaur mare, he said, "Moira, of the Forbidden Forest herd, has agreed to share some of the knowledge of the centaurs, working with our own Professor Sinestra, as the centaur divination practices are closely related to astronomy."

"Lastly, our new Defence against the Dark Arts professor is an old friend and colleague of mine from the Academy. Professor Handbasket probably has more knowledge of the dark arts and defence against them, than anyone who is not a dark lord or lady themselves."

A voice came from the Gryffindor table "You're telling us that Nicolas Flamel is history, and DADA is going to Helena Handbasket?"

Moody smiled and nodded towards the Gryffindor table. "As you say, Mr. Weasley."

"Anyway, to summarize and to finish, you all will find that Hogwarts is going to change. Any Unforgivable curse will be exactly that, unforgiveable, and unforgiven. We have set the castle's wards to detect any such curses, and if any occur, all wands will be checked. And I mean all wands, including those of the teachers, and including my own! If a bunch of the old Death Eaters could claim they were under the Imperious curse, then I might be as well, and my wands will be check too. There will be no hiding behind the Golden Alibi again"

"Does anyone know the term, the Golden Alibi? Perhaps, the Golden Cannon? Yes Mr. Wallace."

The tall Scottish Ravenclaw stood, and answered, "During various clan wars, castles were taken, not by force, but by bribery of those supposed to protect it. So rather than using iron cannons, the bribes were called the Golden Cannon. I gather you are implying that some criminals have gotten off by bribing officials?"

Moody smiled. "Implying. A nice polite way to say it, but yes. At the end of the war against Voldemort, and for god sake, quit cringing! It's just a phony name. At the end of the war, a number of Voldemort's Death Eaters were freed, claiming that they had been under the Imperious for years, and that all their crimes were committed under its influence. Perhaps unsurprisingly, a number of high officials in the Ministry came into a great deal on money right about then. You can draw your own conclusions - I know I have. However, if something like that occurs again, I and a significant number of others intend that the Golden Alibi will no longer work. As you can see, I paid for _their_ enrichment with body parts, and I swear it won't happen again."

"Any bullying, harassment, or taunting of your fellow students will be dealt with, harshly but fairly. Any use of lower level curses will result in expulsion. Any Unforgivable curses will result in legal action, and you won't like it."

"In addition, and as part of the new alliance between Hogwarts and the Centaur Herd of what we call the Forbidden Forest, our wards have been extended to cover both our grounds and the Forest, and anyone bearing the Dark Mark who tried to enter either will find themselves stripped of their magic. For many, that will prove fatal! For those of you who just had their Dark Marks revealed, if or when you leave the grounds, you will not be able to return."

"One last item." He lifted an intricately carved wand about a half metre long. "Rubeus Hagrid, please stand and approach." The huge gamekeeper rose to his feet with a wide smile on his face. Moody turned to him, and handed him the wand. "Hagrid, your right to an education was taken from you by lies and prejudice. I present this new wand to you and hereby reinstate you into Hufflepuff, the House of Loyalty. Now, we don't want to lose your valuable services and your furthering your housemates' knowledge of magical creatures, but you are now authorized to attend whatever classes you wish, and your own pace and times of your choosing." The students of Hufflepuff and most of the rest of the students broke into wild cheering.

Moody turned back towards the student body, as Hagrid sat.

"That's all from me. Enjoy your afters, and the rest of your school year. Hopefully, we will not need to use any of the enforcement tools at our disposal."

After the feast, Hermione Granger approached the head table and stood in front of the centaur mare. She bowed, and the centaur nodded and said, "Do you have a question, Miss Granger? I see you recognize both myself and my student."

Hermione smiled and nodded towards Harry, and then answered, "Lady Moira, may I ask why you referred to Harry as your 'paddock one learner'? It sounds strangely like a reference to a term from a muggle film."

The mare nodded. "Yes, Hermione of the Grangers' herd, the term came from our relatives overseas. When the young of my people begin their training, they are still young and skittish. Therefore, for the first number of years, their lessons take place in specific paddocks, and just as your classmates are called 'first-years' or 'firsties', ours are referred to by which paddock they are assigned. As your former classmate has come to us only this year, he is assigned to paddock one. However, as his case is unique, he came under my personal tutelage. For this reason, among our folk he is called my own paddock one learner. While I am here within the walls of Hogwarts, he will accompany me. Does that answer your curiosity?"

The girl nodded, thanked the mare, then turned to the boy, and said "Hi, Harry." The boy nodded to her, and smiled. He turned to his tutors, and receiving a smiling nod from her, turned to the girl, and said "Hi Hermione."


	10. The Boy Who Hated

**The Boy Who Hated Everyone**

**Disclaimer**: I still don't own anything of the Potterverse. I have no rights to a billion-dollar enterprise and expect to make nothing (zilch, squat, nada) from this story. Rats.

**Warning:** Seriously AU. Things getting better, sort of.

Voldemort was furious. This could not be happening to him. His plans had fallen apart. This could not happen, because he was In Control. He was always 'In Control'.

This was intolerable. He was always the one 'In Control'. He had to be! That was his Plan!

When he learned that all living things are mortal, this was completely unacceptable. At a very basic level he was not in control, but nature itself was. It took a lot of effort and study, but he found a way to become immortal. He had controlled death itself.

Ever since he was small, he had needed to be the one in control. When he was growing up in the orphanage, at first the bigger kids had bullied him, until he found he could reach out with his mind, and make them do what he wanted. If they hurt him, they paid for it. When Marissa had pushed him down the stairs, she soon fell down them herself, and when her broken leg somehow never healed properly, she limped for as long as he knew of her.

He read books, and found references to projective telepaths, and decided that that explained things. He also found that he enjoyed the pain of others.

When Jeffery had hit him with a cricket bat, the boy soon walked in front of a bus, and was killed. Afterwards, the other kids would avoid him as much as possible.

As with all the other kids at the orphanage, he had forgotten Jeffery as soon as he could manage to do so.

He had grown up lonely, but he was In Control. And in his own mind, those words were always capitalized.

When that bearded old fool of a wizard showed up and told him he was a wizard, the man had showed him some of the power that wizards could command. Tom (as he was at the time) decided that he had to have that power, and he had to have more than the old man who came to find him.

He had never been good with numbers; he had never needed to be so. During tests in school, he could easily read the minds of the brightest students, but made sure to make some obvious mistakes. He had seen other students being punished for cheating, and made sure he was never caught.

When the old man had tried to see what skills he had, and of his basic education, he asked Tom what he would have if there were five apples and ten children to share them. Tom had teared up, and cried "You mean I get a half an apple all to myself?" The old man had smiled, and told him that at Hogwarts, he could have as many apples as he wanted.

In his private mind, Tom snickered. The old fool had no idea that with five apples, Tom would have them all and the other orphan kids would have none. They knew that their hunger would hurt less than Tom's disapproval.

When he arrived at Hogwarts and was sorted into Slytherin, Tom found that everything he was, poor orphaned and a half-blood, was despised by his housemates. He decided that before he was finished, they would serve him, and be the dust under his feet. As much as they despised him, he had utter contempt for them. He began to subtly spread the word that he was a direct descendant of Salazar Slytherin himself, and for his family's political reasons, he was hiding his true wealth.

And the bigoted idiots bought it.

Through his schooling, he learned how to flatter and cajole and got everything he wanted. Once he found out about horcruxes, he even managed to commit murder, and have it blamed on a half breed underclassman. Anything he wanted, food, girls, possessions, were all his. Eventually, he did not even have to ask.

Once he was out of school, he invented the persona of 'Lord Voldemort'. The most powerful Dark Lord ever.

He convinced most of the pure-bloods to serve him and he branded them like the cattle he considered them to be. They thought he was blessing them with his favour, but he was showing his contempt for them in the most direct way he could find.

One bit of his superior knowledge he did not share with his subject, whom he dubbed the Death Eaters, was that the brand was also a leach spell, that was draining between 10 and 20 percent of their power to him. As most of them never used more than 10 percent of their inherent power anyway, being as the use of magic and the service of their families' house elves made them persistently lazy, none of them every noticed the decrease in their own power, but did see that their Dark Lord had power well beyond any of them (due to the extra power he was surreptitiously stealing from them).

And because of the extra power he was stealing, had had not noticed that he had only very little of his own soul left. Each horcrux he had created took one-half of his remaining soul in his body

When he killed the Potters and whatever it was stripped him of his body, it was because his remaining soul was not strong enough to resist the reflected spell. And little Harry Potter was marked with a scar that had contained one part in one hundred and twenty-eight of Tom Riddle's soul.

Because the horcruxes remained in existence, Voldemort did not feel any reduction in his power or his being. When the centaurs removed and destroyed the portion in Harry Potter's scar, he did not feel any different. In part because his disembodied spirit was busy possessing a particularly weak-minded and weak-willed wizard who was teaching at Hogwarts. He was also still draining power from his slaves.

The battle at Malfoy Manor changed everything.

The slaves, who were supposed to be loyal to him and him alone, had fought over not who was the most loyal, but over the spoils of their murderous plunder. Thirty of them were killed that night, and young Draco Malfoy had gone through the Manor getting rid of relics of the Dark Lord whose servants had tortured his mother, and killed his father. One of the things he burned was Tom's diary, which contained fully one half of Voldemort's soul, being his first horcrux.

Suddenly, Voldemort was diminished and most of his extra power was gone. There were only a few pitiful remnants of his Death eaters to suck dry of their magic. In trying to stay in power, he sucked all the magic out of Quirrel, killing the man, and a lot of the magic from the students who had taken (or been given) his Mark by their parents. The Mark the student bore supplied only the barest portion of their own limited magic, as their parents had not been taught to invoke the full power of the Mark as when the Dark Lord himself applied it. Even then, the students had fallen gravely ill for a short period during the Solstice holidays.

As Quirrel died, the almost powerless, weakened and only partially souled ghost was driven from the castle by the other ghosts, who had pledged their afterlives to protect the students.

The ghost of Tom Riddle, the self-styled Lord Voldemort, was forever crippled.

This could not happen to him! He was Lord Voldemort! He had the Plan.

Voldemort was furious, but for the first time in his life and forever after, he was impotent to do anything about it. And because some of the horcruxes remained hidden, forever was going to last a very long time.

**A/N: **It has taken me some time to imagine the mind of a sociopath. It's not a pleasant place to spend much time.


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